


All That Is And Ever Was

by maevestrom



Series: All That Is And Ever Was Universe [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arranged Friendship, Ballroom Dancing, Car Accidents, Crossdressing, Crushes, Dancing, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Dresses, Elevator Makeout Sessions, F/F, Family Issues, Im baby, Implied Sexual Content, Law Firm, Lissa/Forrest but like are they? are they not?, Mild Sexual Content, Nighttime, POV First Person, Pining, Political Campaigns, Politics, Romance, Social Anxiety, That almost felt edgy until I saw the elevator sex tag, This is mostly awakening but some of your favorites from nohrshido show up hyaaa and thaaa, Trans Female Character, Unrequited Crush, bc it's forrest after all, family business, i uh have a type when it comes to fics, look Maribelle is clueless about her own love life do you expect her to figure out others., ok ok, see told you i had a type, so juuuuuuust assume all of that, to Second Person, trans!maribelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevestrom/pseuds/maevestrom
Summary: Anxious, weary, temperamental women like Maribelle, shunned by society and bound by propriety, who hate too many but love too much, are not acceptable. Things do not fall into place for them, fading into the seams like there was never a concern. Their stories never end on a high note, but for Maribelle, the story may not be over yet, and through dances, injuries, balls, dresses, and watchful eyes, her story may be leading her to the mysterious dancer and best friend that she loves.





	1. Dreariness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Enough Longing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212569) by [OrangeBlossoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms). 



> so who is ready for another 15k word wish fulfillment first-to-second person story from maeve set over the course of a day almost entirely in the overthinking mind of a main character as she deals with mental scars and/or her identity as a trans woman? i hope you are cause that's what you're getting and i will not rest until this particular subgenre riddles the earth 
> 
> Edit: 15k how cute
> 
> Inspired by Enough Longing by OrangeBlossoms, a story which I have read up to five times and made me fall in love with Olivibelle even when I was and often am caught by Lissabelle instead. It isn't like set in that canon but you can feel the inspiration drip through every word I present to you.

I awake with little optimism or drive; honestly, the last time I’ve woken with either feels like ages ago. Again, I did not sleep well, waking up in bed with sensitive skin and aching, apologizing muscles. I am still tired, but further still restless, and my legs shake with spasms of energy that command that I wake- a command that, at this point, I am too weak to refuse.

My eyesight is still weak but it takes in the walls of my room, adorned with framed or canvassed art that lacks meaning to go with its beauty. My steps for decor have always been mimics of the examples set for me by my late mother, but it is a pale imitation indeed. Beautiful, functional, but possibly useless. The appeal of sleeping in my own home has long been lost on me the lonelier I feel. The only company I have is the dull, chafing warmth of cotton pajama pants and a pile of blankets to my left that I would crave were the June heat not so already merciless.

And, as I look down at my phone, three notifications that I’ve missed.

They’re all from you, Olivia. The first is just a hello, set to reach me when I wake. The emojis and cute anime faces that statically act out a sunrise scene would be droll coming from someone other than human sunshine herself.

The second is just an itinerary: you’ve physical therapy this morning (now that I compare times, at this moment), then chemistry and history class. You do like to keep me abreast on your developments the further you get into your recovery period- as eager to be a compliant charge as I am a dutiful guardian.

The third is a sloppy request, though thankfully more straightforward than they used to be- _do u think u can meet at… that cafe. off 17th/charleston. u recommended it that one time and it’s close to school. classes end at 4 so 430. i think? only if u wanna!_

I smile. I do so enjoy reading your correspondence when I am at a proper state of waking- or even at times where my eyesight still fades and blurs. It is the closest I get into waking into the arms of another, and you would be surprised at how much I would like those arms to be yours. Still, I hold my phone to my chest and let myself imagine- shameful as it may be, my fantasies are the only dependable part of physical romance for a girl like me.

A minute or two passes, and part of me fears that you can see me though it’s not rational. Guilt plagues me as I consider that maybe it’s not what you want, your friend being so wanton about you. You’ve told me derisively about men who have creeped you out after seeing you dance, reacting with entitlement and then anger when you turn them down out of instinct. You’d go so far as to say that, at the very least, your injuries have kept men like that away despite how much I know it gnaws at you not to dance. I know this well- when I started to transition the leers were as unsettling as the jeers. Yet, despite only meeting you after the accident that has left your legs in the need for physical therapy, you are still being desired by a tart who can only fear quietly that she is another unwanted male suitor.

I blink. I know that if I start now, my anxiety will cause me to overthink every way which I live my life as though I do not doubt its authenticity enough as it is. So, instead, I occupy myself by texting you.

_Good morning, Olivia. As it is, I’ve just woken up and I see that the hour matches that which you are in physical therapy for. I do hope it goes splendidly._

No, splendidly is the wrong word choice. It makes it sound like a romp and not a vital, often painful part of recovery. I delete the word, then the sentence housing it.

_Had I been awake beforehand, rest assured, I would have wished you luck._

No, that’s far too affectionate, and I should know my place, so I delete that sentence.

_You’ve been walking on your own lately for short periods at a time, even without your cane- am I correct to assume that you are still working on that? I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made._

After a few moments, I decide that it will pass.

_As for meeting up with you this afternoon, I would be delighted! The cafe you are thinking of is Belle-du-Jour._

I think of giving you directions, but that would perhaps come off as too desperate for your presence to give you more than a leash.

_I believe you will like their wares; they’re rather pedestrian which means that you will find it easy to get into._

Oh, but perhaps that is rude in and of itself to minimize your taste level. I delete the latter half-sentence.

_Surely it is better than the wares they feed you at the college, and it certainly will be my treat._

After all, I have the money of the daughter of a rich lawyer and you have the money of a college student; I consider it a duty to share the wealth that I am not using for a better purpose.

I read over the text to make sure that there are no discrepancies.

_Good morning, Olivia. As it is, I’ve just woken up and I see that the hour matches that which you are in physical therapy for. You’ve been walking on your own lately for short periods at a time, even without your cane- am I correct to assume that you are still working on that? I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made. As for meeting up with you this afternoon, I would be delighted! The cafe you are thinking of is Belle-du-Jour. I believe you will like their wares; surely it is better than the wares they feed you at the college, and it certainly will be my treat._

I think, adding a few words and changing the second “wares” to “trash”; it is vulgar, yes, but expressive, and have I ever been known to be different? I look at it for a final time, knowing how to complete it yet fearful despite myself. It's purely platonic, as has been established, yet I fear being found out before my time.

Still, I suppose it would be worse to create its absence.

_I love you and wish you the best._

_-Maribelle_

Then I hit send with a smile, though I have already expended a lot of energy on micromanaging my own texts.

No matter. It would be proper to leave the confines of my bed and, at the very least, start on coffee. Normally, I am a tea drinker, but as I’ve tired lately despite- or perhaps because of- the aid of my anxiety medications, I’ve taken to coffee as a purely functional wake-me-up. I settle for taking yesterday’s batch and placing a cup in the microwave. I’ve been settling too much for my own good lately, and I wish that were not the case. The microwave beeps, and I sit in the living room near the kitchen. It is a good house, sizable and warm with wood finishes on the cabinets and a fireplace in the living room. Perhaps it looks a little too much like a grandmother should live there, but I make do. It’s my father’s smallest house, and though it baffles me that my cousin should be gifted a larger one without being tasked by my father with paying rent, I know that I am lucky to live here at all and do not complain.

The clock rings in eight chimes with a tinny bell, and I smile at the only other presence in the house. Work starts at 9:30, though I can afford to be a little late, and I fantasize about the outfit I should wear. There’s a ruffled cream-colored blouse that I’ve only recently bought, as well as a black skirt that I should wear over some form of tights. I must shave, as I always do- I’ve unfortunately gotten my father’s propensity for fast-growing facial hair. Perhaps I shall put my hair up- curly as it is, it has not seen its ringlets in far too long and the chaos looks somewhat akin to Lissa’s… never mind that. If I think of her, I will lose track of myself.  

Not even a minute passes, and my phone vibrates. I pick it up, eager to divert my thoughts. Thankfully, it is you, and my heart skips every time I see the name Olivia at the top of my notification.

 _gjdswkskgk,_ it reads, again reminding me of the time I foolishly asked what the meaning of this gibberish at the start of messages was. Now that I know it is simply a spontaneous expression of no real meaning, I rejoice in provoking as many out of you as possible, even ones whose sources I do not understand.

 _i always forget that u talk like a freakin victorian author in text and. its so weird everytime._ Then afterward, a heart and a rather taken-looking animated face. I blush furiously, though it is simple text.

_But of course. A lady must keep her dignity._

My brain shuts off until I hear a vibration once more.

_ & ur a v v dignified lady :) _

I coo out loud, hand to my chest. I hope that’s a true compliment- I tend to take the idea of being dignified to its furthest, most pretentious conclusion. Consider it a product of all aspects of my upbringing- my instinctual desire to be dignified and my compulsive need to prove my womanhood. However, I do not think you are mocking or, as you would say, shading me. Shade isn’t in your nature.

Lissa, I must admit, steered me well. Though you were skittish when we met, I was told that once you opened up, you’re a very kind and encouraging woman. _There’s something about Liv, where she’s so nice to people she loves because she’s so mean to herself. And so she never wants to let anyone just hear mean things about themselves._ Though I’d never told Lissa, I’ve always fancied myself to be the same way.

Still, while you are shy, I am outspoken; perhaps the true reason that Lissa set us up beyond the doldrums of a post-accident world. I was always outspoken ever since I was a boy, and when I came out I was given every impression that being so mouthy was suddenly an undesirable trait; still, I’d fully learned it by now and could not give it up if I tried. Certainly would be easier, I will admit. I myself even thought it little more than a way to lead into experiencing unwarranted personal attacks. That is until I met you and you took every order I handed out with jittery affirmation. Perhaps the way we developed a routine is what made us feel like a special entity.

I realize that I should probably text you back. I read your message again and I’m heart-warmed much more. Only around you do I feel that there’s value in being me, and how I crave that validation so.

_Such a charmer, Olivia._

_awwwwwww i try_


	2. Escapism

I've a penchant for daydreaming. It's a consequence of working as a file clerk at my father's law firm. The work is repetitive and thoughtless; thus, unfulfilling. It would make sense, then, that my mind would wander. I don't know at what point exactly my thoughts naturally wandered to you, nor do I know exactly what to make of it. I can safely say that I didn't expect it, even if I suspect that Lissa did.

I blink viciously to get thoughts of you out of my head. I confess that they were once thoughts to combat the storm of anxiety and regret that claimed my head, forcibly incepted to readjust a chaotic and condemnable mental space. It was so easy to think of you dancing, Olivia, based on the videos you sent me warning that you were not very good. In fact, they were, but I expected no less. Even two months in, I'd gathered that you were lower on yourself than you needed to be; indeed, beyond humility and into needless shame.

Still, the facts speak for themselves, and they could not speak louder than the fact that I'm lost in the gentle control of your hips, the twirl in your step that is lighter than air, the gleam in your eyes with a hint of mischief, and how they all beckon me along to get lost in them, get lost in you, until it is too late-

Damn.

I come to with a violent gasp as I realize that I've spaced out for several minutes, meanwhile animated enough to put some files away without regard to where I let them end up. I go through the drawers in a filing cabinet that I know I just accessed and move any wrongly placed ones to their proper destination. As this is my father’s law firm, I know that my mistakes will be brushed over, but nepotism is nothing one should rely on. Besides, considering my relationship with my father is… strained, at best, and has been since my thirteenth year when I introduced him to Maribelle, well, best not to do anything to risk upsetting him.

I pull myself up and collapse into a nearby chair, the repetition of my work catching up to me and leaving me drained. Too many days go by like this, and I fear I find them all flimsy- in time, I will not remember the specifics of any of them more than a vague process:

Come to work,  
Avoid contact with my father so I may feel confident in my dress,  
If there are any paper files that I need to transfer, put them in my messenger bag,  
Transfer them to the correct departments (again, without running into my father if possible)  
Spend my time in the file room with naught but cabinets and a chair like a princess locked in a tower  
Finally, properly organize any documents until the next request for pertinent files is made

A dull but straightforward job, one meant to reduce me to the low man on the totem pole, one that this woman does as well as any man.

I consider pulling out my deck of cards for a round of solitaire when my phone vibrates again, piquing my interest in the current. Since I’ve been given a pager for work, you and Lissa are the only two that message me. To my satisfaction, it's you, and the notification lists the file tag of an image (though I almost mistake it for another bout of your keysmashing).

I open it to see a self-photograph of you looking into the camera, the caption reading _Another Day At School!_ Though you'd be forgiven if you were not happy, your photograph shows you smiling brightly, at ease in a way that's progressed through the time that I knew you. Your grin is radiant, and the blush that creeps through your mocha-dark skin is exquisite. Your pink hair still looks luxurious in braids, the sheen reflective even though it's clear that you haven't paid special attention to it. Though your makeup is light and your earrings do not match, you are quite stunning. Your hazel eyes smile at me, and I am definitely smiling back.

I’m impressed by your progress- the car accident that you were in, Lissa described to me in gruesome detail, tears in her eyes as I became introduced to your existence for the first time. The length of us knowing each other has been defined by repetition- you filling out the edges of your degree with general education classes that you claim are _probably just there so we avoid sending stupid dancers out into the world,_ and I still resting on my laurels at a job that only serves to financially support me.

Our places in the world will come, true, but you are waiting for yours to come back. Your ship will come in. I’ve no idea what mine would even look like. For that, I am ashamed, yet I insist on waiting with you because that’s where I feel most comfortable. Perhaps we met because I was told you needed a friend like me. Perhaps I threw myself into being that kind of friend for you. Still, at this point, it’s clear to me that I am the one who needs a woman like you.

I check the time. It's barely past one, which makes sense as you're only now in class. Time is of the essence, so without thinking I jot down my immediate thought:

_You're so gorgeous!_

As I send it, I gasp and lose pallor to the point of becoming a ghost. That was more forward than the chaste compliments I've paid your looks. I slam my phone down and try not to think of it all, but when my thoughts fade, the emptiness in my mind always flees to the idea of you, dancing like in the videos, white fabric draped to your skin, loose yet flowing like the Vallite legends of old, your grand hair in a grander ponytail, and an impressive set of abs that certainly had the fixation of my eyes the first few times I'd paid attention to your appearance. I'd been your friend for a while before I received any videos of your craft, but upon receiving them I felt my feelings for you change in live time and, to this day, I'm still growing into them.

Before I get too… carried away, I manage to look at my phone once more, waiting for a message, possibly preparing how I shall walk my compliment back into something more appetizing. Finally, it vibrates. I'm a little too scared stiff to open it, but urgently it vibrates twice more in rapid succession. After some frankly petrified dawdling, I open the message.

_Sjhsvjjdfb_

_ty omggg i_

_I LOVE YOU AAAAAAAAA_

Laughter crackles through the room and I feel the stress melt away as I see the sort of reaction I thought too lucky for me. I am used to forced smiles or awkward small talk that seem to look for a way out, but I believe I've honestly flustered you a little.

Consider it payback, dearest, for flustering me with your very nature.

Before I can say anything else that likely would embarrass you, my pager buzzes again from atop a file cabinet, taking my joy with it. I suppose solitaire will just have to wait, though I can't act like being solitary isn't what I'm doing here at all, a specter hidden from the limelight to do menial work and avoid embarrassing the firm.

Is it the fate that my life has been led to? I fear so but hope not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dignified lesbian thirst is perhaps my favorite thing ever


	3. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this anxiety's gonna hurt like an emm-effer

I look down at my watch as if to justify to myself that you’re late. No, I knew in my bones. I managed to avoid looking at the time for a good few minutes after the time we were to meet at Belle-Du-Jour. I think I’ve convinced myself that it’s not normal to fear the worst after only running- at this point- seven minutes late, but I’m afraid that I’ve never been able to help it. I’m a very territorial woman, Olivia, and though I try to help it around you, it’s a fight to cage the beast. 

The beast. I suppose one could call it anxiety, another still paranoia. Certainly in clinical terms that is how it’s been described to me. The mystery is whether these flaws are natural or if they took root in an uprooted life. Perhaps their sources can be found between a slew of terrible people, even worse words, and a sorely misaimed life trajectory that led me to the intersection of  _ here  _ and  _ now _ . Now, where I still fear that any instance of you running late is a sign that I am driving you away, that I matter less and less, that I am ephemeral.

It’s a rather embarrassing feeling that I wish I didn’t feel at all.

A server comes by and asks if I am yet ready to order. I inform him that were I ready, I’d have asked him, as that is what servers do, and I am clearly seated at a table for two which has one seat unfilled. He mousily apologizes and skulks away, and I am remorseful for letting my abandonment issues speak for me, though I am too guarded to apologize. When I apologize, I’ve learned from experience that others- men especially- take it as an admission of weakness whether it is or not. Though I can be weak, I’m compelled to hide it.

I hear a flurry of footsteps from outside the cafe door and then hear said door burst open with a gentle fury. The smiling face I saw photographed earlier now looks at my general direction flushed with recited remorse in a white geometric sleeveless shirt and black capris. You stand there with your cane newly implanted in the floor in a cool panic and try and find a clock on the wall, though you could easily use your phone. I nod a greeting, at this point beyond the need to tell you when you run late. Besides, the way you look away from me and blush in a heightened magnitude of guilt informs me that it would just be cruel to drive it in.

_ I’m sorry! _

You choke this out before you're ready to use your voice or are even seated. I motion downward, though I've made myself a bit too weary to smile. You explain that the lecture took longer than you expected, and you spent the whole time anxiously looking at the clock. I tell you that it being the cause of another was the scenario that I imagined- you are not one to dawdle when others depend on you. I also insist, again, that it is not worth such concern, because perhaps one of the times I say it, it will stick in your mind. 

You notice that the table is empty.  _ Have you ordered yet? _

As though I would ever order without you! Honestly, what kind of friend would I be had I been drinking from a mug waiting impatiently for you to walk in? You are the reason I am here, Olivia, not some damned coffee and pastry. However, I keep all that on my tongue and say that I’ve decided to wait for you, and you should really sit down, you already seem a little woozy. You sit, resting your cane next to my bag. You admit to running as best as you could, apologizing once for being late, but again, I tell you that you do not need to strain yourself for me. 

_ Besides, it’s not like I was doing much of import. _

You look at me with a mixture of pity and skepticism but say nothing, and I’ve long learned not to pressure you to. Instead, we make some small talk. I’ve got little to afford you; the story is all yours. 

_ So, my professor, right? Oh my  _ God.

You vent about how the teacher in your class lectures for far too long, talking in circles in a way that’s familiar to me. You claim that it’s just a lot of history and, honestly, you don’t really care. Your frustration is genuine and untamed around me, and I admire it because you would never admit that you flat don’t give a damn about some of the subjects they teach you. Unfortunately, it reveals the fact that you’re circling the wagons until you can do what you love again. 

_ How did physical therapy go today? _

You assess the one-page menu when I ask, habitually flipping it over. That’s a trait of anxiety that even I possess. When things are hard to talk about, we busy our hands and reflexes to divert our nervous energy. You manage to tell me that you’re still working on walking on your own without the cane, but also that it can be painful to have your legs support you in such a way. The tone of your voice fears that it may be a while until you can fully stand, so I respond that you still have made such progress in a gentle tone that reassures that I am very, very proud of you, Olivia. 

_ S-so what are… what are you up to? _

I can read an effort to redirect a conversation when I hear it, so I try to make the little that I am up to sound like something. That’s difficult when what’s been going on is nothing, however, so I soon divert my attention. I talk about things that I wish to cook when I cook for myself, design ideas for the house I live in, and perhaps a makeup tip or two.  _ Perhaps I will practice on you if you are so willing,  _ though what I mean is that I promise to, especially as you nod eagerly. I admit that I like that. It’s hard to do things so superfluous for me, much less believe that I deserve it. 

_ Have you talked to Lissa lately? _

I blink at your words, and my eyes stay shut afterward. Yes. I suppose I must address her at some point, though I still am sore to. 

Without opening my eyes, I start.  _ Lissa is… always a bit distracted. The thing right in front of her is the thing to focus on. A social climber like her has a lot to focus on; plenty of people to meet that she hasn’t, and likely wouldn’t care to meet. I obviously am not in her position even with my father’s wealth for obvious reasons, so I cannot compare and contrast  _

_ Yeah… she hasn’t messaged me either. _

I deflate with a shaky breath and open my eyes.  _ A straightforward answer. I suppose I  _ was  _ talking in circles there. _

You notice the expression on my face. I’ve long stopped trying to hide it, as I am a mirror to your anxieties and cannot hide from you regardless. You set the menu down and place your slender hands midway through the table. As if to console you, I grab them, but it is I who shakes. 

_ I-it's okay. Just… y-you don't have to be all cagey around me about Lissa. I promise. _

I look into your eyes with apprehension.  _ Surely the frequency with which I complain about her is excessive, especially given that she’s your friend as well as mine. I’d hate to trouble you.  _ Or lose you, for that matter. Oh, how can I tell you not to worry about the small things when it takes so little to trigger my own paranoia?

You shake your head.  _ Lissa’s m-my friend. B-but so are you. And… I know what it’s like, you know, to feel that way. It sucks…  _ Rare in our time together, you make eye contact with me.  _ You know? _

It takes a lot of my energy not to cry in public.  _ Olivia… I do not know what I would do without you. _

You smile, eyes glistening. You wait for me to say anything more but I remain silent. You can surmise quite easily that I have not fully gotten over Lissa, and that the heart is more complicated than I tend to give it credit for. Perhaps you find it silly, as my attempt to start a relationship with her failed and I have never actually been  _ with  _ her. Perhaps you find it discouraging, should you have feelings for me (which I have allowed myself to wonder, arrogant as it may be), because it is improper to develop feelings for someone else when your feelings for the one before have yet to fade. But no, you seem sad for me, and that is all I can read. Your empathy always stuns me, and I can only communicate my appreciation through my eyes.

Perhaps, for a while, I could stare at you, but if you look away it will hurt. 

So instead, I say  _ have you decided what you would like to eat? _

You nearly throw the menu into the air when you flail to pick it back up, stumbling over your words about a salad. I smile, endeared so easily by all that you do, but it is an uneasy one, because that is how I felt about Lissa. I cannot give myself permission to let my anxiety fade for you, but Gods, do I want to.


	4. Wanderlust

It is a paradox when we leave the cafe and walk along a trail into the city, for it is in the high eighties (in other words, I vastly overdressed) yet sprinkling at the same time. I’d brought my parasol and place it in the hateful gaze of the sun over my body, but err it towards you as one hand uses the cane for balance and the other hand uses me. It’s something you have done since you’ve been walking again, yet I am more embarrassed by the intimacy than I was when you were in a wheelchair or when you reclined on me as we sat on hospital daybeds. Maybe it’s because in those days the focus was on  _ you  _ and now it is on  _ us.  _

You've already finished putting up a protest at me paying for your meal; though I could tell you that no expense is too great for you, I desire not to overwhelm you and instead remind you of the source of my wealth. You accepted, but you became lost in thought in a way that you still are. 

You notice a large gazebo just ahead of us. There’s a wooden bench inside, painted white. We decide to stop there, sitting on the bench next to each other after I move my bag out of the way. It takes all of my attention not to fall against you and relax, but you do place your hand out for me to hold. It’s nice and calming, but selfishly I miss the days where you needed me for physical support. I knew not what I was missing then.

_ It's a nice town here.  _

I nod indifferently at your venture out of your own head. I've never had a solid opinion of Themis, this  _ town  _ of three hundred thousand people. My experience with it has never been that of a commoner, but as the child of a wealthy, well-esteemed family, and I suppose that my social status will render it a backdrop to my own torrid story.

_ Is it better than anywhere you lived in Ferox?  _

_ Hmm… a lot less artsy. Which made it easy to impress people. A lot of them, get them drunk and any girl moving her hips will be the best thing they've ever seen. But that's not really enough to make you actually feel like you’re impressing anyone. Uhm, b-but we're not barbarians or anything! It's just… different here. _

I try not to wince at the word  _ barbarian.  _ As you know, it's indefinitely intertwined with me and my sins. When you claimed ages ago that Feroxi men habitually crept on you, I'd said with simple idiocy  _ Feroxi men are barbarians.  _ I'd learned of your pride for your homeland that day and had certainly earned your vocal anger. When you use that word, I'm reminded that I can't unring that bell. I also remembered that you had the audacity to apologize for yelling at me the next time we’d met; I put a quick stop to that. That _ is what I mean,  _ I told you as though I had the right.  _ Some things you should never lower yourself to apologize for.  _

Nevermind that; you’d hate for me to remember, even as my insecurities wish to play it in full.

_ B-but yeah, I came here to Themis because they were art-friendly in Ylisse. I wanted to grow as a dancer.  _

_ We're more art-inclined further East, so I fear that picking the Westernmost city in Ylisse was a misfire. _

_ I mean, Plegia has styles I like to emulate but their dance is all religious. I figured I'd at least be close to that. Get some, like, mixed influences.  _

_ A wise choice, then. _

You beam.  _ You should travel someday too.  _

_ I used to as a child, though I’ve not for a while. It hardly counts, though- I accompanied my parents on business trips. Though I’d make my own fun with Lissa, it was hardly location-development.  _

_ Yeah, like… you should do it again. You’re an adult, so… you have a lot more freedom now. _

_ That is something I have considered.  _ Though that is a mild way to put it. I try not to mention my old plans to travel the world with Lissa should I get sufficient finances together. Eventually relinquishing those was very hard, as it meant among other things being stuck in Themis. It is a border town to Plegia, so I suppose I could travel close by over yonder, but I can’t think of much sadder a thing than going alone. Save you and Lissa, I’ve never had much in the way of friends.  _ Perhaps in time, should I get my house in order. I’ll admit that I should like to be anywhere but here at times. _

_ Aw, come on, Themis isn’t that bad… r-right? _

I close my eyes and breathe into clasped hands.  _ In fairness, it’s rather… quaint.  _ Quaint in how it clearly wishes to be a hundred years in the past, but by the dictionary definition I suppose it qualifies.  _ Perhaps if I were a tourist, I would appreciate it more, but having spent a lifetime here, I do get… fatigue.  _

_ Yeah. I can get that. Like, growing up in Longford is… well, it’s Longford, you know. It always did feel lonely.  _ Especially as a bisexual woman who was compelled by its culture to bottle up her feelings, I infer, but I’d imagine you expected me to.  _ I was almost sort of relieved when we had to start moving around. You know, I thought maybe I would find a place after a while. And… I don’t think I ever did, but… you make do, you know? _

You end a lot of sentences with an invitation for me to say my piece, for which I am grateful.  _ I do. I’ve made a lot out of what amounts to my entrapment here. _

Upon the word  _ entrapment,  _ you visibly grow downcast at my side. I want to tell you that it’s not as bad as it sounds, but I struggle to justify that as the truth. 

_ Can… I a-ask you something… t-that you might find sensitive?  _

I nod without thinking.

_ And, uh, you can t-totally stop me whenever you want. _

I nod again only after thinking. Your stammer is starting to reappear, and that is disquieting.

_ Y-you said… back in the c-cafe... that you… your family was in… the s-same sort of social… thing. That Lissa was in.  _

I swallow and nod once more.

_ B-but you’re not.  _

It dawns on me. My gut twists into knots, but this is strangely easy to discuss when provoked.

_ Is it… i-is it b-because… oh, gods, I’m sorry! _

I squeeze your hand and nod once more to stop you before you wash away in a sea of apology.

_ I was never trained to be a socialite. My cousins were by their parents. By mine as well. I was trained to develop an eye for law and business. My father was… well, it would be no surprise to call him traditional. Men would run business, women would gather connections, but in no circumstances were the two to overlap.  _

I clear my throat.

_ So, yes, when he’d been faced with the realization that he was teaching his daughter how to run a law firm… let’s just say one thing led to another. At this point, though I am still acquainted with the family, they see it best to avoid displaying me in the spotlight. _

_ B-but you’re still… you still work there. Th-that’s why I thought things were p-probably stable with the family.  _

I pause. Am I sending a mixed signal I do not want to by working there still? Am I complicit in my own dehumanization? At once, it rushes upon me, seeks to flood my mind. All of the times that my father still called me by the name I was born with despite the fact that I was beyond looking anything like I deserved it. All of the times I would find out about social events with higher-ups in the city after the fact. The very fact that I have a low-paying job in the firm that was my family’s inheritance and pay rent when no one else does. When I think of that, on a surface level, I believe that I have to be grateful for what I am granted, but have I resigned myself to the scraps of my family while under the belief that I do not need a full meal? 

I do not realize that I am crying until you reach over and hug me; only then do I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.  _ I suppose… femininity is a strength, and though I hide behind it when I am shaky… it drapes on my shoulders like a flag that gives me strength. I’ve said the word strength twice now, I realize, but I do want to make clear that I do not think ill of being a woman. Wait, that was not the subject at all, I apologize, I have lost the plot, but I am fine. _

You do not seem convinced, nor should you be with how ferociously my hands finagle with the half-broken strap of my bag, so I think back and recall the question that led to this mess. And it is not one that I have a full answer to. 

_ I did not want to be another sad story, in a manner that is… all too common for trans people.  _ I sniffle gracelessly.  _ I do not wish to be another tragedy. _

_ But your story isn’t over yet, Mari. _

You did not stutter or stumble over yourself one time in that declaration, Olivia, and I believe it more for that. Unfortunately, I am also crying harder because I am now faced with the task of making my story better, and I do not know how to go about that. I apologize for being a wreck, but you shake your head, hand on my back, and insist that it will be okay. Though I am usually rather high-maintenance, that is all I need.

My story isn't over yet, you say, and yet the only dependable reference points that I can offer are my desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story is getting away from me.


	5. Apprehension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how I said this story appears to have gotten away from me? Yeah uhm, it is basically a one story house I decided that I was gonna renovate and now it has like eight stories so enjoy an entire extended plot and about 30-40k words.

We depart shortly after, though you seem hesitant to let me out of your sight. I insist that I'm fine and that you did nothing to upset me. Perhaps that's a half-truth; you didn't upset me at you, Olivia. I trust you talking to me about things that do upset me. There's just… something so overwhelming about what you said, that my story isn't over yet, that I can't fathom it, and so I numb myself. I arrive home and am in bed immediately after I undress myself to my undergarments, forgoing my nightgown and staring at the hairs in my leg I've yet to shave until I fall asleep far earlier than I usually do. 

I wake up at five-thirty, restless and aching. I'd forgotten to take my medication so, with an apology to myself, I take them. Zoloft, Prozac, Estradiol, Spironolactone, and some over-the-counter ibuprofen sign my surrender treaty to the waking hours as I prepare to face the day.

I look at my phone to see a message you've left me. At this hour, darling? No, the message is from last night at nine, which I regret being too late at answering.

_ are u alright?  _ Then a sticker of two turtles hugging. 

I wish to tell you that I am- whether I am or not- but you've been woken up by texts via me at ungodly hours, so I wait. Today is not a physical therapy day, so you won't be up early, and you should definitely sleep in. 

I get up and finally slip on a nightgown. While I set out to clean the house, I'm reminded that it often hasn't been lived in save for my bedroom. When I return, I take the unsightly garbage can in my room and dump the trash into the kitchen can, planning to take it out at the earliest convenience. I return, make my bed, and hang up my last load of laundry after a couple of days. The clothes within it are wrinkled, but theoretically, I can iron them, though I’ve fallen so far in personal upkeep that I know I will not. 

After this, I set off to the restroom to shave my face of any unwanted hair. It's a repetitive and monotonous task, and my face is often made too raw for me to get lost in my own thoughts. I wonder quietly if I should at least trim my body hair but decide against such a pointless exercise. Instead, I return to my room and lie down. I do not wish to sleep, but I have little energy and would like for this boring time to go by.

As I rest, I see sun rays apparate through the curtains of my bedroom window. They crawl deeper and deeper across the bed as time passes. I watch them as my hand slowly reaches across the bed to an empty side that I never use. Oftimes when I am feeling low, I have desired a hand to take mine, and as time has gone by, I have placed the image of you in the space next to me. It always starts with you taking my hand, then placing it on my shoulder, then taking me into your arms. I must give myself permission for every stage that I progress fantasizing about you, so by then, I turn to my side. 

Things generally get more elaborate from there. Sometimes, I try to forcibly snap out of it before it gets perverted, immediately ashamed. Sometimes, and you’ll have to forgive me for this, I cannot cage the beast and allow my thoughts to get sloppy. On rare occasions, I think about how much I wish you would hold me as I just cried, let out all of my anger and frustration and hurt in the one moment of weakness that I would allow myself, but ironically, that makes me far less sorrowful. 

This morning, I have my hand out to the side, turned to face you, but you are not there, and my mind burns from your lack. A shallow imitation does not do you justice, desperate fantasy does not constitute a dream, and, well… the closer I get to you, the further I get from your idea and the more that I desire your reality. 

I believe that the term you use for yourself when you refer to your romantic struggles is that you are a disaster bi. Whatever disaster you reckon yourself to be has nothing on this… catastrophe lesbian, a mixture of fanaticism, imperceptibility, and utter gormlessness.

I’m interrupted by a phone notification. Alarmed, I check it and find it to be nearly seven now- the time that I would normally wake up. When I see the notification, my response is peculiar- my gut drops to my knees and I swear quietly. Certainly not the gallant welcome that Lissa would deserve, but not one she can see, at least. 

It takes me a few seconds to open it. Though I’ve reached numbness to my wounds, I fear that it would not take much for them to resurface. 

_ Maribelle! back in Themis tomorrow. bro has some political fundraiser and there’s a ball with it  &you should visit! i know it’s a fancy schmancy thing  _ (and here she has placed an emoji of multiple  _ z _ s to indicate inherent boredom),  _ but been awhile since we’ve seen each other & we need to catch up :D  _

Lissa does not change, even through so much. Though her brother works in the political Ylissean scene and she’s gone alongside him through a world that has made me cynical and disgusted by proxy, she is still cheerful, carefree, and has no idea what qualifies as short notice, apparently. Her presence still gives my heart a sickly tingle as I am confronted with the traits I had fallen for once upon a time. 

_ Lissa, I would be delighted to.  _ Though isn’t delighted too intense? Quite provably, that hasn’t been the best thing to do around her. I almost replace it with  _ honored _ , but I do not want to play it like I am in her debt.  _ Charmed? _ Gods, no, I may as well send her live footage of me batting my eyelashes. Yet at the same time,  _ predisposed _ and  _ happy _ seem too light, and I haven’t even gotten to the rest of the text message, so I jot down the first word that seems appropriate. 

_ Lissa, I would love to. _ Impersonal, but it gets the job done.

_ However, I am not sure that my father will wish to see me there, and while nothing would make me happier than defying him, I also fear the consequences that may arise from such a situation. -Maribelle _

I set the phone on my chest and try to steady my breaths until she responds. 

_ ohhhhhh! The Stodge™?  _

I cackle. Leave it to you to make me embarrass myself laughing at least once per interaction. 

_ That is putting it mildly. Though I do enjoy the trademark.  _

_ well, if u wanna talk to him/let him know, you can (vomit emoji) but youre a grown woman / you should decide for yourself.  _

_ If only it were that simple, Lissa. _

_ yea. That sucks. Siiiigh _

_ its white tie so wear your best dress. i can’t wait to see you!!! _

I spit out the nothingness in my mouth, not because I am surprised that she would still claim that I am making it, but because she is correct and she knows it. 

_ You are something else entirely, Lissa.  _

I smile, tenderly touching the send button as I realize how much I missed her and the whirlwind of chaos that she brings into my life.

_ I cannot wait to see you either. _


	6. Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I swear one of these days I am gonna write a story about a trans person that has a banner day and everyone just loves and not have to add shit like cw: bad dad, abusive parents, transphobia, but i cannot help getting my own trans angst all over y'all sorry

Whenever I talk to my father, I expect one of three things to happen.

One, it is unpleasant.   
Two, I have an anxiety attack beforehand or afterward, on occasions both.   
Three, I reassess everything I am doing in my life. 

Yet, it is still better than the alternative. 

As I have established with you, I am the black sheep of the Gleason family. The first of one’s name generally does not tend to be found in the middle of a family like mine. That, more than anything, is a microcosm of why things with my father are so strained. He was the eighth of his name. Originally, I was the ninth, before I became the first of a new name. 

As of this moment, I have no desire to ever name a second. 

If I do not talk to him, he reacts. He never reacts in ways where he can be accused of the mistreatment that he is clearly employing. He is subtle. 

If I do not communicate everything I wish to do around his person, he may cut my work hours back, leaving me barely enough to pay for expenses.  Perhaps he knows that this cuts back my personal funds and how integral personal freedom has been in my development. At times I can barely afford the co-pay on my hormone replacement therapy and I believe he knows that as well.   
Perhaps he will request my assistance in extracurricular tasks where I will be forced to interact with him, essentially stealing time that I would rather spend accompanying a giant porcupine.    
Sometimes, he will do nothing at all, but the anticipation is a psychological wound, making me paranoid and dreadful of what will come. 

He has created a situation where he has taken so much from me- my place in the firm, my family, my status- and has forced me to rely on him, where he can starve me at his convenience. It is my fault at this rate, for never taking the risk and escaping from him, never leaving this cycle, letting fear motivate me when I am barely alive as it is.

I know all of this. 

When I came into work today, I dressed in a rather androgynous way to avoid his ire- a set of black pants held up by suspenders and a white dress shirt. I still made an effort to dress by the queer book, so I can smirk at his foolishness for never having read, and there is no way in hell that I would leave behind my parasol. I focused on filing effortlessly and doing what the orders for files told me by the letter so our conversations did not start and likely end at my mistakes. I stuck around the firm for the lunch hour, knowing I should go in but not able to. That, ultimately, describes my fate- I fight against myself not talking to him with the knowledge that I should, and work ends with me leaving before I take the chance.

The law firm looms over me even at three stories like a bird of doom stalking its prey while I curse myself at the bus stop. I should have swallowed my pride and gotten his blessing, but if I was not going to succeed in even talking to him, I wish I had not let the fear of him dictate my day.

I rest against the shelter, waiting for the bus to take me home when my phone vibrates against my chest. It takes me a few deep breaths to pull it from the pocket of my button-up shirt and a few still to illuminate the notification.

_ seriously mari i hope ur ok!! i didnt mean 2 upset u & hope ur not mad.  _ Then a sticker of an owl with clasped talons.

I shriek and accidentally toss my phone in the air, trying to catch it as it bounces off of my fingertips and lands on the ground, protected by its case. I cannot believe that I forgot to message you. In fact, I'm literally stunned, and I must make up for it post-haste. 

_ Olivia, I sincerely apologize for failing to respond. It was a simple lapse of memory, nothing more. I regret concerning you so; know that nothing you did has made me resent you. -Maribelle _

I impatiently wait for the bus, punching the stop identification number into the listed text hotline to find that it will be here in eleven minutes. Eleven minutes too late if you ask me; I should like to leave the vicinity as soon as possible. I feel the buzz of another notification, this time in my hand, and decide to let you take me away from this wretched place.

_ oh thank goodness!!  _

_ thats good to hear i hope ur okay!!  _

When I go to start a response, I'm interrupted by another text from you.  _ so u heard about lissa & the ball right??  _ A disco ball sticker follows. 

Instantly, the situation gets at once lighter yet all the more tangled. Lissa said nothing about you attending, though in my right mind I would have gathered as much. The idea of you being there is both an ease to some forms of tension and the heightening of others, and the rise in blood pressure I experience is not wholly unwelcome. It is an  _ event  _ now. I may even shave my body. 

Still, I take advantage of the medium and play it cool since you cannot see how hot under the collar you are making me. 

_ Oh? I have been invited, yes, and I do plan to attend.  _ Especially now that you are, though I keep that to myself.  _ I will warn you in advance that I have not told my father about this; my attendance will be a surprise to him. If this complicates things, I apologize, and I fully understand if you should like to keep your distance. _

The idea of you and I not seeing each other keeps me from hitting send. I would enjoy catching up with Lissa, but selfishly, I wish to obligate you to keep me company throughout the evening. Yet, I cannot do that to you. To complicate your already troubled state with my problems feels unjust. The shadow of my father is consuming, and I fear that it will swallow you whole. Still, I hit send before I can read it over and adjust, and I'm uncouthly nervous of your response until I get two buzzes. 

_ that doesnt scare me Mari <3 I totally will be there with u  _

_ wait or do u want me to stay away? sorry if I misread u!! _

I respond in a few seconds flat.  _ I wouldnt dream of it!  _ Only after sending it do I realize my grammatical error. An honorable killing would still not temper my embarrassment at that, and the shame I feel at such a visceral and swift response would be potent even from six feet under. So I send another message:  _ Your company would be greatly appreciated. I simply wanted to warn you that you may have to withstand my father. He is… scrutinizing.  _

I worry that you may not be able to deal with such a person, especially one that I have elaborated to be a tremendous obstacle in my life. Yet, your reply still says  _ dont worry. might freak a lil but i can handle it,  _ followed with a sticker of someone in army fatigues saluting. I have half a mind to reach into the stickers option on my own phone and send one of any of the gods’ creatures with hearts in their eyes, but decide against it, instead just letting them surely flash in my own. 

_ Rest assured that I am very thankful. I consider you a close friend and, though this is a very unfortunate rite of passage, I am grateful that you would take it on regardless. I love you.  _

As the meaning changes behind those three words, so does the way that I type them and, though I try my best to hide it, the way I say it to you aloud. I receive a response from you that simply says  _ I love u 2  _ with, as I considered for a moment of weakness, a panda with hearts in their eyes, and I wonder if the way you’ve said them has changed as well. 

Before I can think on it too long, you message me again.  _ so im gonna be at oboros off cornelius with a friend. Remember forrest? think u will actually like him! plus we can get some accessories and fashion stuff there for tomorrow & he is a total fashionista!  _ A few twinkle emojis follow. 

I smile to myself. That does sound like a splendid way to kill time, and ultimately, the more we treat tomorrow like an enjoyable romp, the less it feels like I am playing with fire adorned with gasoline. The bus finally begins to approach, and I reach into my wallet for the change. 

_ That sounds like a lovely time. What time should I be there? _


	7. Regality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got a loooooooooooongboi here
> 
> also nyx is forrest's mommy if only because OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS aka my muse for Forrest this chapter:  
> https://diao5.tumblr.com/post/156500273093/nyxforrest-is-my-everything-so-have-this

Forrest captivates me from the second I see him to the point where I feel like I am violating his boundaries by staring too much, but the way he meets my eyes with familiar, weathered kindness makes me feel like he is used to it. Still, I am rather disgusted with myself for my weakness. I do so hate being stared at- it leaves me as petrified as you- and yet he seems at peace with it. 

You’re used to him being there, so you’re filing through the racks of clothes that fit you, looking for something desirable to put on layaway. Your style seems to be an indiscriminate mixture of:

Your native Feroxi’s dress of furs, leather, and sharp angles   
Plegia’s sheer-laden and skimpy dresses made for hot desert summers   
A fanatic recreation of long-lost Valla’s pure and intricate dresses with divine ornamental detailing

Such taste is likely what led you to  _ Oboro’s Closet _ , as they delight both in making and selling clothes with roots in many countries around the world. It makes your shopping experience an open pick-and-choose from the offerings of culture to culture.

Meanwhile, my style is:   
  
Conservative baroque Ylissean dress, full of ruffles and modest patterns   
Whatever covers up my shoddy body the most effectively   
Anything that I believe looks good on my skin

I believe Forrest’s style is also the latter, and therefore every style ever to exist. He is a beautiful young man, and I’m drawn to his gleeful destruction of gender roles. At this moment, he is wearing a skintight black dress with frill-raised floral patterns in white, short-sleeved to show off a pair of slim, toned arms as well as broad shoulders and a tight chest that signals attention through large diamond-shaped cleavage, things that I historically attempt to hide on my own person. The dress accompanies knee-high black boots that match his flowing, messy dark-plum hair, and I’d not known black to be a summer color until I had met him. 

On his pale brown face rest two red markings below his eyes akin to letters in another language, and angular, jubilant features that seem to treat life like a lark. While I identify as a lesbian, I’ve lately branched out to according my tastes to anyone femme enough, and Forrest is femme enough that it is not until ten minutes after I’ve arrived at the boutique that I substantially look for any clothes. 

You meet me as I scan through clothes that I do not truly see.  _ I never knew you were into Nohrian fashion.  _

I look at the clothes. My parasol falls over onto my sorely covered feet.  _ Is that what this is?  _

You jerk a thumb at Forrest.  _ That’s what  _ he’s _ wearing.  _

_ For the record, that is absolutely what I am interested in.  _ A lie, and you know it. 

_ It’s okay. He’s used to people staring. He kind of lives for it, honestly.  _ From what I remember when you would tell me about him, that does sound apt. You’d also told me about his genderbending and air of regality, which is one thing to hear yet another to experience.

_ Hmm.  _ I return to the clothes with forced indifference and listen to you giggle. 

_ I almost feel bad that you’re a lesbian. Otherwise, I would try to set you two up, like just for a night out.  _ I suppose there is a twinge of concern at how eager you are to set me up with someone else when I can get quite possessive myself, but I would imagine that Forrest is an exception to many things- and if I am not careful, my own sapphism may very well be one.

I stroke my chin, still filing through in efforts to appear casual.  _ Let me think things through, Olivia, and put a pin in that, would you?  _

Your giggle turns a little salacious. _Oh,_ absolutely _I will, Mari._ _Forrest always does love the prettiest things in life._ And then you’re gone before I can make a biting retort at my own expense or even scold you for making me blush so deeply. 

I realize that either Nohrian fashion is far more revealing than I would like, or I am not in the Nohrian section at all. A cursory glance at Forrest reveals that I am not. Tearing my eyes from his form as soon as I can, I leave to find what I am comfortable with. 

Forrest talks to me from a distance, his words for you just as much should you wish to add anything or interject. He’s a fashion student but has taken a few dance classes with you and refers to you as Soleil.  _ Soleil Levante is my dance name,  _ you explain.  _ Or at least the one my teacher gives me. _

I walk past you two through aisles.  _ That must make it confusing when you talk about your cousin.  _

Your exasperation shows.  _ She shows up to so many dances too!  _

Forrest takes on a false sense of curiosity.  _ Hardly just your own. _

_ Of course she’s there, Forrest. They have cute girls in skimpy outfits that move…  _ Your tone goes from derisive to dreamy.  _ That move their bodies in just… amazing ways. A-and her dweeb older cousin isn’t there either! It’s like, hey this is my cousin  _ actual  _ Soleil, and she’s a horndog. I’m fake Soleil, and I am  _ not.

With that description? Certainly not. I think for a second before confirming with myself that, yes, I am feeling a bit playful.  _ That  _ does  _ sound like a divine time. Though I would be so bold to remind you that  _ you,  _ Soleil Levante, are one of those women.  _

You stammer something incomprehensible before you talk to Forrest instead.  _ This woman will be the death of me.  _ I smile successfully as I find a rack of Ylissean styles to window shop in. Consider it payback for your line about the prettiest things in life, dear.  _ I-I don’t even w-wear skimpy clothes when I dance! _

_ You’re quite enthusiastic when you lie about things that don’t matter.  _ I can practically hear Forrest smirk from here, as well as you slapping his chest. 

Parasol back over my shoulder, I leaf through the rack with my free hand, finding something to wear in my fantasies at least. As I dismiss too many things to be healthy, I listen in on you and Forrest. The conversation turns a bit more introverted, but I should hope that you do not mind if I hear. 

A few names pass through Forrest’s lips like a checklist, none of which sound like names I’m familiar with. Potential dance troupe members? You have mentioned people like Selena, Azura, Gaius, Henry, and Orochi, but whilst I only hear Orochi’s name in the list (to which you say  _ she and I talk sometimes! _ ) I do not recognize the others. Though when you respond to a name with  _ if it’s not in front of him he forgets it’s there,  _ it sounds awfully like past boyfriend Henry from  _ I-Was-Just-In-A-Phase  _ years ago. Forgive me for rabidly disliking him despite only being tangentially familiar with him. For one, jealousy is hardly rational as I am jealous of  _ him  _ of all people, and for another, I would hope in some distant reality that I would be better than  _ that.  _

_ You’ve been neglected.  _ The force in Forrest’s voice shakes me from my thoughts.

_ Forrest, it’s fine. It’s taking a ton of my time and focus and they have school.  _

_ I manage to talk to you. Check in on you.  _ He’s proud and possessive all at once.  _ It is not that hard to do.  _

_ Maybe… t-thanks, by the way. _

_ Don't mention it. But I still find it jarring that the others have flat out left you to dry. _

_ You're so dramatic, dude. I'm  _ fine.

_ I am not dramatic. I am honest.  _ I nod, for I am sure that I have said that before.  _ Tell me the honest truth, Soleil. Is it just me and Maribelle? _

My ears perk at my name but my eyes stay on the dresses. I find one that would look divine on me, but the price tag keeps me from scouring it further. I realize shortly thereafter that I have missed parts of your conversation, but also that you have both progressed into whispering, so I oblige and reluctantly stay out of it, returning to the dresses. 

I notice a top with a creamy-pinkish color that I pull from the rack out of curiosity more than anything. When I do, a corset and long skirt come with it. It's… well, so many things in this world are divine, but this is something both divine and something that fits me well, judging by how I hold it against my body, knocking my parasol down once more. 

The top is pleated with chevron lines that span the top in semi-translucent fabric but is otherwise a dress shirt with small cross-ties rather than buttons and a high, haughty collar. In its midriff is a plain leather corset and beneath it an illustriously long navy skirt reaching my knees in its front to my feet in the back with waves that bend its shape into something free, something beautiful, something… that could make me. 

One look at the price tag sinks my heart like a butterfly struck by lightning. There is no way that I could afford that, especially not with my father finding ways to financially deprive me. I sigh with all of the sorrow in the world and resolve to put it back and slink into the scarves before I start crying over something so stupid when I hear my name. 

I follow it to find both you and Forrest looking at me; him with a warm smile, you with an excited one.  _ Maribelle, would you mind trying that exquisite garment on for me?  _

Confused, I hold up the dress and Forrest nods at me. Your hand is at your mouth, your eyebrows raised in the sort of alarm that sees flames and dares them to burn her.  _ I'd like to see how it looks on you. Wouldn't you, Olivia?  _

You swivel to him and glare with the kind of fury befitting a nosy brother and something beyond a typical friend at once. Eyes closed, he grins in mock innocence. I'm not honestly sure why he expects you to be flustered- bisexuality is not remotely a guarantee that you will be beside yourself when any woman is in nice or even limited dress. 

Still, best to defuse the situation.  _ I'll do so. Thank you.  _ I hand my parasol to you, where you hold it next to your cane. As I disappear into the self-managed dressing room just across from you, I make sure the curtain covers from end to end before undressing, my slacks, shirt, and suspenders all hitting the floor. I do my best to fit it on, though the corset I must throw over my body so as not to untie it- I'd rather not bare my stomach. Indeed, the corset could fit better and it's hard to judge without makeup, but I do like it, and that makes it hard. Still, I leave to see the both of you. 

_ Oh my God.  _

Your fists are clenched and you nearly bounce up and down from your vibrations. Considering you are wearing a low-cut tank more sheer lace than solid fabric, you should probably not do that, but I'd honestly prefer if you did more. Forrest is looking at your rabid enthusiasm, then he turns to me. Looking at my waist:  _ Would you mind if I adjusted the corset? I know it can take two sets of hands to fit it right. _

I turn to you, the proposition tensing me up on instinct. You nod and remind me that he's a fashion designer. I look at him and nod stiffly, turning around, preparing for the tightening. He tugs on the ties harder than I anticipated, taking my breath. In a minute, he is finished and passively adds that I have a nice figure for a corset. As though it's a high compliment, I blush- Olivia, what has gotten into me today?

Forrest asks me to face him one more. I'm not used to moving in a corset, so my walk as though I'm on stilts, but I comply.

_ A bit of context. I'm from Nohr originally. My father… well, to avoid boring you, he's a high political player. As such, I know Lissa through diplomatic meetings. _

My eyes narrow by instinct.  _ Yes, quite, though I don't see why the children of dignitaries feel the need to boast of their father's accomplishments. Trust me, I am long past the point of being impressed by trying to pass off said accomplishments as your own.  _

Forrest doesn't look offended or even surprised, just slightly uncomfortable and oddly endeared. You, on the other hand, have your hand on your mouth and look near to vomiting.  _ M-mari! Trust me, F-forrest isn't that kind of guy. I-it's all good. _

I reluctantly nod; to his credit, Forrest still gives me an inviting smile. I face him again, skirt twirling from that simple gesture.  _ I apologize; admittedly, authority figures often get my hackles up before I'm even aware of what has come over me.  _ The cashier chuckles sympathetically. I'm visibly stymied, and even you two look at her, but the moment passes.

_ Quite all right, Maribelle. I just wanted to assure you that this is no financial trouble at all- I'd like to buy this for you.  _

_ What?  _

My jaw drops. Forrest looks a little proud of himself, but the warmth in his eyes has been replaced with the lilt that I originally saw. I look at you, and though you're smiling with mist in your eyes, you do not look surprised.  _ Were you in on this, Olivia?  _

You giggle.  _ He's so cool, isn't he? _

I close my eyes, positively overwhelmed yet overwhelmed positively.  _ I just do not see… why you would do this for me. We've never properly met until today.  _

_ Consider it me saying thanks in the way closest to my heart. Thanks for staying by Olivia as loyally as you have.  _

Slowly, delicately, I hug him, and he accepts with cordial chasteness that encourages me to hug him more sincerely.  _ It's absolutely no trouble. I daresay that I don't deserve this much of a gift for it, but… you have my humble thanks all the same.  _

Forrest turns to you with a victorious grin.  _ See? No trouble at all, she says!  _

You don't respond until I let him go.  _ C'mere, you!  _ You also take me into a spontaneous hug. As I wrap my arms around you, you take me by the chest and hold me close.  _ You can wear that to the ball tomorrow! I'm so happy for you!  _ I wonder if that was what this was all about, but I'm a bit distracted by your embrace and how close you are, as I so often am.

We pull apart and I look you in the eye, hand gently on your shoulder.  _ I feel… remarkable.  _ Whatever fire is in my eye is the only leeway that I'll grant to discovering any deeper feelings. I turn to Forrest, who looks… thoughtful in a very unspecific way.  _ Would you mind if I looked at it in my dressing room once more before you purchased it for me?  _

_ By all means, go for it.  _

I curtsy graciously and take my leave, hearing you  _ ooh  _ as I do. I shut the curtain with less care, looking straight into the mirror. My straw blonde hair is very much that of a working woman right now, the curls thrown into a ponytail. I gently take it off and let my hair cascade down my back and over my shoulders. True beauty is something I feel only on occasion, even when it is something I objectively see in the mirror. Though my eyes are tired and my face is gaunt, I both feel and look the part- and to make a trifecta of it all, you are out there, giving me a reason to be beautiful and embrace it. 

For the first time, I am the high-class woman that was always inside me. I am the princess of Themis. 

Tears streak my eyes and color the faded pallor of my skin. This is because an ethereal creature of the Gods rewarded me for being a good companion to you, but I want the final reward to be yours, and I want to know that I have earned it. 


	8. Dignity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two paragraphs have a vague explanation of sexual impropriety because I cannot leave well the hell alone.

The three of us spend about another hour or so together, and I am back to spending my time observing Forrest. He’s not what I expected from most of the rich boys who would like to buy me extravagant things- something my pride used to refuse until my finances decided to take advantage of it. Many of those boys, hardly men, tried to do so as though clothes and jewelry and the occasional house appliance- as I said, finances took charge- would get me to acclimate to them in romantic ways. To put it mildly, women were checkmarks to them, and I was a taste unfamiliar to them that they wished to try.

The evenings would undoubtedly end in curses, insults, and threats that, once upon a time, my naive self would let shake her. Now, I hardly lock my doors, and although the disrespect does not change, I have, and I do not let fear override my wrath. I dreaded that Forrest would be the same type of boy, and exposing not only a friend to you but someone I had vested interest in was something that would no doubt dampen the mood.

Forrest is different, as I stated. I had decided this when we went for ice cream. The three of us are walking through the district that Oboro’s was in and filling the empty air by talking. Though he often talks with you about things I deem immaterial, he joins you in your attempts to make it a triangle adept with me. He is kind, he teases you in a familiar way, and he has a very dignified way of walking, talking, interacting, and presenting his personality that can only come from the higher class. I am surprised by how much I want to be his friend from the start, even if my attraction becomes just a figment of reality, a vague possibility paling in comparison to the reality of his companionship.

As sand passes through the proverbial bottomless hourglass, I feel more comfortable interjecting at points, and the parts driven by the cynical experiences I express with a vagueness that only you can translate through my distant stares. The beast comes prepared to play again, but it is soothed like a sleeping jungle cat as I hear you talk about things and enjoy your perspective.

Forrest leads as we enter the store and approach the counter, and you shrink into yourself with your typical case of nerves around other people, which Forrest and I are both sympathetic to. Forrest and I both take simple flavors- butterscotch for him, caramel for me- in little cardboard bowls that I hold near my parasol. I don’t even know the names of the flavors stacked on the cone you hold in your free hand, and I doubt asking will illuminate anything to me.

The differences between you and I, however, are better illuminated to me. I’d already known that despite the grand similarities of anxiety and queerness dictating our lives, we were different in interests and inherent personality. However, details not only on paper but intricacies I witness in real time take my interest over Forrest.

Your ice cream tastes being a catastrophe next to mine is a fine start, but I also notice how you talk without inhibition around friends, whereas I always practice my words even in a split second, talking methodically in case I must change them in live time. You are physical in touch with those you are comfortable with- hence how you initiate our embraces and how you hold onto Forrest’s arm, gravitating to him like a past lover. I rely on words of affirmation, and even then I hold back, my grand gestures wallpaper to my identity and not the art piece that they could be.

Finally, there’s how you view things in _moments._ As the three of us cross a street in the blossoming drizzle, Forrest claims in affectionate exhaustion that you act like you’re in a music video, and you compound his accusation with the admittance that it’s always about making memories with you. You want the grand snapshots of life to place in your scrapbook; I want the consistency, the peace of mind, in continued, quiet satisfaction. I want to assess my life and find myself content. Given a life or death choice between the two, you would want the dynamite kiss, and I would want to keep waking up next to you the next morning. Yet I know that I would be asking too much. A kiss is but a kiss. A romance is a story.

Eventually, at the corner of a bistro I have probably taken you to once upon a time, Forrest bids us farewell. He is sad as he says that he is heading to rehearsal; though you try not to be sad in kind, you cannot help it as your words grow quieter and you look down more. With strength, he tilts your chin up so you meet his eyes and says _You will get better_ because you know at times that you will fear the worst. Forrest is… surprisingly romantic; in my fantasies, I would emulate his moves. He waves me goodbye and I tell him that I hope to see him again soon, leaving a string in his hand that we can tie between us. He smiles, nods, and like a specter, he is gone before I know if he has wrapped it around his finger.

_You are walking surprisingly well today, Olivia._

You blush. _I do my best._

The gazebo we found ourselves in yesterday is nearby; once again we are in its gravitational pull. As we walk down the path, I tell you that I love Forrest. Even if he had never bought the dress sitting in a well-crafted portable bag resting in my hand, I would still love him. You agree, saying that he just has a magnetic quality to him. He's in his senior year and you're not gonna have a great time without who is essentially your college mentor there.

You admit that you two used to date; the jealousy I had towards Henry does not appear in his case. Even when you break and admit that it was more casual than dating, the _you know_ implied, I tell you that I don’t care, and I had my suspicions due to your gentle, nostalgic dynamic which honestly comforted me to see, to know that you were in such good hands. The words bring a tender blush to your cheeks. It's lovely.

_I d-don’t tell many people th-that… I ever did that. I n-never did that ‘til, like, it’s basic as hell but I’m a t-total college rebel. But… people get ideas, especially when, like, you t-tell them… that._

_They are fools. Sexual freedom is nothing that one should be tasked with being ashamed or afraid of._ Though it is trite advice, it can be deemed a necessity. We finally reach the inside of the gazebo. As we sit down, the cane, dress bag, and messenger bag sit to our sides. _I in fact feel a sense of prudishness about the subject; when it’s right to me, it will click._ It will be so different than the near-misses I had with perverted men. I will not allow it to result from being used but treasured instead. _It is the viewpoint of a girl religious to the point of brainwash, but-_

 _But it’s fine._ You look at me with a serene smile that is almost unintentional. _We’re both just fine._

I nod. I am not sure if I believe that in a broad sense. Can a person be chaste? If they so wish. Yet, being inside my mind, being aware of myself and my life, it feels wrong, like I am surrendering to the violence of those that mistreat me. Yet… it is also an acknowledgment that I deserve better than I have gotten.

The idea fades in time as we talk more. Or, admittedly, you talk more. Though I’d not admit it, I am not in an overly talkative mood and instead decide to be carried by the waves you set forth. You talk of times near the initial blossoming of our friendship with affection for times that once were. How you’ve nostalgia for the early days between us is beyond me- bad enough that you were confined to a hospital bed, but our interactions there… well, I’d imagine that were it not for Lissa’s good words, you’d have given up on me.

Yet, you speak of my stubborn brashness, my desire to make you more sociable with the common folk while you were still bedridden, as admirable and not an obnoxious violation of your boundaries. You remind me giddily of the time I tried to train you by ordering you to make the acquaintance of the nurses that so often frequented your hospital room, and I look down, already embarrassed.

_Would you mind if we discussed anything else?_

_But it’s funny!_

_In retrospect, I’ll grant, but it is still very embarrassing._

_Yeah, you know… I think I took it a little too far!_

_When you resort to tacky pick-up lines on men and women alike, that tends to be the perception of the matter._   _My favorite moments are when you'd look at me as if to ask why you just did what you did._

 _See? Told you I'm a disaster!_ Though you cover your face, you've graduated to full-on cackling.

I nod smugly. _I cannot in good consciousness argue with that._ You shove me lightly but are still radiantly joyful. _Though I won't act like some people didn't deserve to squirm a little._

_Oh. Oh yeah! That nurse douche._

_Sir Perfect of the Round Gurney? I'd already half a mind to beat such a troglodyte with my parasol. Incorrigible flirt._

_I did actually think that you were going to snap on him._

_Trust me, you giving him too high a dose of his own medicine was better than any punishment that I could have handed out… though, admittedly, not as cathartic._

You cackle. _See, it_ did _all work out!_

_I suppose so. Though perhaps it would have worked better had I left you a frame of reference. As it turns out, all I did was scare you once more._

_Nah. I mean, a little, in an I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-did way. All you did was show me that I knew how to flirt with those I don’t know. I just don’t… wanna, honestly._ You giggle shyly. _So you made me know where my boundaries lay, you know?_

 _Oh. Then it turns out I did teach you well._ Though I do wish that you would show me some of your game, truth be told.

_Yeah. Also helped that I had to show my face back in that hospital, so, like… I couldn't avoid those little mistakes I made._

_You're braver than I, Olivia._

You turn to me, surprised at the swerve to the serious and already blushing.

_I admit I fear… I suppose, facing those I've… bothered. I would prefer not to bother them in the first place, but I'm only human, all things considered. If I've done something to… make them think ill of me… I'd struggle to look them in the eye._

_That's… I-I get that too sometimes, but I just... jump off a cliff and go for it._

I nod with a sad smile. _I respect that. Truly, I do._

There are a lot of inferences you can take from those words; inferences that are out of my control, which terrifies me. Perhaps… no, I know that's why I've such a stranglehold over my words. If I can control my words, I can control thoughts, and pray that the thoughts are not ill on me. When I lose control- or in this case, cede it- praying is all I can do. Oftimes, I look confrontational, needy, or just plain desperate. Is there another way? Is there a way that I can be treasured as much as I treasure you?

Perhaps that's what I'm praying for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so since it's now kind of relevant, I should post the ages of the college-aged four. 
> 
> Maribelle: 22  
> Olivia: 24  
> Lissa: 20  
> Forrest: 25
> 
> Odd that the one gen-two of a different game is the oldest, but Forrest was born to be ~the lesbian whisperer~ the mentor towards people like Olivia


	9. Distance

_ Look.  _

I only realize how long we have rested in the gazebo when you point to the sunset out from the gazebo windows over rose hedge bushes. A lot of it is marred by the fluorescence of Themis ahead of us, a slight increase of rain into a steady drizzle, and a helping of pollution. Still, though I was raised on decadence, I will have to leave my father's golden house someday, so I smile at this imperfect sunset. 

You reach for the cane that you've set at your side and I stand up to reach for your hand, my bag still hitched on. Grabbing it, you slowly walk with me to the edge of the gazebo, you quietly grousing that you feel like an old lady. Still, the view is there, and it is lovely. I find myself enjoying the way your hand rests in mine, yet strangely wanting it to venture further in, wrap around my waist, surprise me a little…

Instead, it lets me go.

_ I wanna try something. _

With that, your cane falls as well. Before I can protest, and I would, your hands both grip the perch. That's better, though I'd still advise you otherwise. I look you up and down, wondering when to say something, but my mind settles on silence. Cautioning someone away from doing the slightest risky thing is something I would do with Lissa. I mustn't put a muzzle on you. Still, when you look at me with shaky pride, I signal for you to be careful with my eyes. 

You stretch your leg behind you, and I gasp, but you stay. You work out the kinks, and judging by how pleasurably you sigh, it's been awhile. Then you emit a tiny shriek and admit  _ that… sounded wrong!  _ Despite myself, I giggle. You place it down and stretch your other leg, and I notice in detail how thick their muscles are, as you generously wore black shorts with trademark Plegian sheer below the hip. In the videos shared with me, your legs were oft in motion and I could not ogle, but seeing them so close… you are not the only one having impure thoughts, my dear, and I'm sure mine deserve more atonement. 

_ I think I would love to see you dance one of these days _ . 

_ What if I did right now? _

You let go before I can tell you otherwise, and as you do, your legs crumple and you fall backward. I scream and dive to catch you, but even as your head falls against my bosom, it still hits hard judging by the way you cry out in pain.

_ Olivia!  _

_ Agh! This was stupid, this was stupid, oh my  _ gods _ , I'm so stupid!  _

_ Olivia, it's quite alright. _

You breathe shallowly, and I fear that you're going to panic. I leave my arm out for you to hook onto and fetch your cane for you, which you take, your expression darkening. 

_ Take me home. Please.  _

I prepare to accommodate, even as the world grows a bit hazy from the rain and from my own nerves. I’ve never been to your place, and oh, these are the worst circumstances I could have asked for. I truly hope you are okay, but I have my reservations.

You insist on walking without my parasol overhead as we near the bus stop, skyscrapers surrounding us both as we approach, and I can’t say I fully understand why- especially since you are already holding onto my shoulder with one hand, relying on me as support. You say it’s because you’re already hot enough and you need a way to cool down; indeed, I can feel the heat of sorrow humidifying the air near you as we walk side by side. I am concerned that with your head injured the way it is, rain could trigger faults in your senses, but I trust you enough to tell me if it is causing pain and if not, I would goad you into telling me.

This parasol was never meant for the rain, even a downpour this mild, so I shut it, not making eye contact with you as you ask why I did that. I explain that I do not want to take any chances with this old thing, as I expected more sun than rain to block out in June. You just nod, also ill-prepared for the weather yet at the same time openly thirsting for rain, something to change the state of your stale, aching body to anything new. 

Not for the first time, I wonder what it is like to be you, spontaneous to the point where you know not the logic for your plans as much as the feelings that necessitate them. All I can think about is how annoying the rain is with its unyielding drops that slick my skin and tempt my feet to slide out of my flats. My mind concentrated on every step, I manage, and we make it to the shelter of the bus stop. 

There’s no seat where we are, sadly, so you lean against the plexiglass and watch the rain hit the roof for a few seconds until looking up proves too strenuous. You close your eyes, rest your hands on your head, and duck into the corner of the shelter. To show that it is no trouble, I stand next to you and place my hand on your shoulder, body touching yours to demonstrate support. Everything’s going to be fine, Olivia, but you are crying and I am concerned.

_ I-I’m going to be able to dance again, right? S-someday? _

_ Of course, you are.  _

_ O-okay.  _

I hear the rain against the asphalt, see it hit the sides of the plexiglass and blur the subtle line art along the sides.

_ Y-you’re not just saying that? _

_ I’ve never imagined anything truer, darling. You are an amazing dancer and you will dance again. I promise this.  _

_ I just… _

I embrace you, unable to hide my consternation at your sorrow. 

_ I-I miss it. I miss it s-s-so much, Mari. A-and I don’t know w-who I’d be without it. A-and I’m so s-s-scared… _

As you continue to speak, your voice loses all sound, a breath of words and apologies without the desperation you generally impart them with. I nod knowingly. My own disassociation attacks would begin the same way, and when one starts they cannot be stopped, nor should they. I slowly motion us downward, and as I sit, you fall into my arms, embracing me with quiet sobs and a loose grip that is all that you can muster. The bus arrives and passes us by before I acknowledge that it’s there. 

As we are wont to do when this happens, I encourage you to tell me everything you see. In a breathless cadence, your head turns up from cracks in the sidewalk and cigarette butts to coffee shops and newspaper stands across the street.  _ You’re getting better at this,  _ I encourage you, and you manage to squeeze my hand just enough for my fingers to clench together. I mutter that I love you, and though you are used to it, you do not know how I mean it, and it’s honestly not important. What is important is that you feel loved. 

I ask if you are ready to catch the next bus, and you nod. As fifteen minutes after the last comes to pass, I stand up with you, though you are still so low energy that you lean against me for support. Though I am a wisp of a woman, you fade into me pleasantly enough that I do not feel any strain. 

The bus stops for us and you lean against my body as you show your school-granted pass, as I do my outdated ticket that he thankfully does not pay attention to. We find a seat where I can lean against the wall, you can lean against me, and however far it is to your home, it isn’t far enough, and if you would just like to lay here, you can and I won’t mind. I never minded. I never would. I don’t mind the stares that I usually get on the bus this time; for once, the seat next to me is filled, and she is all that matters.

_ You are a dancer. This time in your life be damned, you were born to be a dancer. When you are well, you will realize that it was never in doubt. _

You don’t say words, but I can tell that you’re grateful. I am surprised as usual; while unnecessary adoration comes naturally to me with those I love, many are not receptive or do not wish for my well-wishes at such an extreme. Once upon a time, I figured you to be the same, as you were nervous, self-loathing, and averse to praise. To some extent, you still are and were you in a better state, I could see you telling me that my declarations are more powerful than you deserve, but even if they are to you, you’ve not stopped me. Still, this is only as far as I go, and as I see you in my arms, loved but not a lover, I realize that I could sing of my love forever were you only to hear my praise.


	10. Audacity

Your apartment… well, darling, it hardly is, to be honest. I find that you do so love candlelight, and also that it takes but a few to light up the whole studio. As I bump into a coffee table and shelf lined with stuffed animals, you offer breathily to turn the main light on. 

_ Nonsense. If this is what makes you comfortable, then so be it _ . 

I always have been accommodating to true friends, but Olivia, you always seem so surprised by it. Though on the surface I tend to be rather icy, your surprise indicates one of two things- either I am a nice person, or you are unused to kindness. In all likelihood, it is the latter. 

As I prepare us dinner in the form of two cups of noodles, you try to justify your choices in the apartment.

The couch you're lying on next to my bags folds out into a futon, which you sleep on, except on nights where it feels better to sleep on a couch. I don't mind. 

You don't have a TV because it takes up a lot of room and, honestly, you can watch videos on your phone or laptop and be fine. I don't mind. 

Your menagerie of stuffed animals adds color to the room, but you could say that they're just cute and make you happy and, again, I wouldn't mind. 

Candlelight gives the studio more of an authentic, lived in feel, and given the dismal state of the white walls and secondhand furniture, I agree wholeheartedly. 

Honestly, even though my gut cramps in pre-emptive distaste at the microwaved food I've prepared for us, I find myself minding… alarmingly little, and perhaps more alarming is that the justification is that  _ it is you _ .

As the microwave stops, a curse creeps up on my heart, manifesting in anxiety, as I fear that this is the only way I know how to love. Have I grown? It feels like I've not, save for the thoughts that scream that full blistering power is the only way I know how to showcase affection. I am aware, yes, but I cannot figure out what to do about it.

I get our food and set it on your coffee table, and you thank me like it matters. I wonder if the anxiety will decrease as I move my bags and sit next to you. You bring a certain air of peace with you as you rest my feet on my lap with an unnecessary apology, but the unease remains. The voice in my heart that condemns me is my own, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. 

Artificial steam rises from the styrofoam cups full of noodles I'm fairly certain are glued together, yet you eat like it's nothing. I take a few pity-nibbles to quiet my anxious weathered heart.

_ I’ve been here since before the accident. I’ll probably be here awhile honestly. _

If that's the case, you could stand to decorate with more gusto, but no matter. Though your words often say otherwise, Ferox is a lot like your Soleil- it annoys you as often as you are embarrassed by it, but you would defend it fiercely to your last breath. You say something about Ylisse being welcoming, and you aren’t sure if you are staying or going. Then you admit that you’re kind of dazed. I'm in a fog too, only grasping the summary of your words after they are said.

_ You’re taking… math this term, correct? How is it going? _

You feel the need to justify how it's only there to pass the time while you recover, but you squeak that you're managing to scrape by with Bs. I'm impressed; Bs are not As but you and I have never been mathematically inclined. You protest that you should be putting in more of an effort, but I shake my head. 

_ Darling. Let yourself rest for a while. _

You can't help but sigh in a way that permits yourself comfort like you are set to cuddle against me and sleep- though perhaps that's simply my desire. It certainly does speed up my heart, moving it closer to the place where it can finally rest against yours. But we are not there yet, and right now to get closer I only have a vague idea I dreamed up on the bus- not the source of the best ideas. Still, I will need to be entirely cognizant for it, so I take deep breaths to steel myself.

_ I..  have come up with a loose scheme.  _

_ What is it? _

_ I have heard your words about my current status, and…  _ oh, that's no good. I do have a vague self-preserving way of speaking at the start of my declarations, so I tell you outright  _ I might start to take college courses where you are. _

_ At YAU? I-it's a pretty, like, generic artsy college. It doesn’t seem like your thing. _

Again, I challenge myself to be straightforward.  _ I want to do something. Something to steer the course of my life in the direction that I want. _

_ I'm s-so happy for you, Mari. _

I beam.

_ I just… I don't know why you'd follow me. _

_ Oh. _

I already fear that I have given my game away. You speak of it like I should find it a conflict of mystery interests, and perhaps I should, but I tell you that I doubt that I should wait on my anxiety to clear up enough to attend a more prestigious college and that I wish to learn things and do something with my life instead of letting it pass me by until I am an old spinster looking out the window at my past life wishing I had taken many opportunities. (You can tell that I am nervous because- as you point out somberly- that was all said in one breath, and I myself barely remember the last word I say.)

_ I also would like to work on… taking charge in my scant knowledge of law. Perhaps better it in some ways.  _ I am not sure if that’s the truth; ideally, I would work in law, but at the same time it reflects such dismality that my heart oft cannot take it. 

_...I-I mean, they’re not a law school… it’ll probably suck a lot.  _

_ Oh. _

_ They do decent Liberal Arts, I guess. So…there’s that, but… honestly, I don’t know if you’d like it. _

I nod and look down. I only have one justification left, and I am ashamed of it and how easily you could guess if you dedicated yourself to it. I don’t say anything else; I don’t know what to say other than the obvious thing that my tongue pushes back. I do not loosen from my tense position, and my own heart does not stop fighting the words that I gradually grow too weak to prevent. It all builds up into something so unpleasant, so longsuffering, that it does not go away until you take my hand and ask me

_ M-mari, what’s wrong? _

I clear my throat.  _ Apologies. I was lost in thought. _

You know it’s not the whole story, but you don't have the courage to call it out, just as I’ve not the courage to tell you the full of my heart. Suddenly, we are at a familiar standstill- my heart neither moving nor speeding up- and gods, how I resent it so. 

The moment passes, and as it does, I regret the opportunity I missed to tell you that I want to spend the next phase of my developing life with you. Once upon a time, I felt that I could with Lissa, but it was only a vague notion of being hers. With you, I would believe that progress will happen.

_ I-if you don’t want the noodles, it’s totally okay! I don’t mind! _

I stop apprehensively gnawing at it. With disgust:  _ Gods, was I that obvious?  _

I openly question you, as you appear to be quite poor and this is a full meal to you that I simply do not desire. You lean to sit up and insist that it’s okay. On your face, I expect to be the truth, as you are very transparent, and that is the case- but the truth is not disappointment in me and my inability to lower myself from the ivory tower that I hold my standards in. Your truth recognizes me for who I am with the softest of smiles and the most knowing eyes and, oh, how I love it all so. It is a place for me as I am.

It is so kind that it disarms me, and again, I have to convince myself that it is okay that I am experiencing such kindness even though I am  _ me _ . It is very hard, because your kindness is golden to me, a treasure. Do I deserve treasure? Do I deserve gold? It is so easy to convince myself that I do not; you seem convinced that I do, beyond the doubts that often color your face and fill your mind. 

_ I would like to ask you something, Olivia.  _

You perk up, terrified. I understand, for I am terrified as well. I can sense that I am at the edge of a cliff where jumping is an inevitability, but behind me is anxiety wholesale. It has already begun to tear at my clothes, my promises of confidence and hopes for stability, and if I stay it will rip everything else from me. 

You struggle to meet my eyes, but for flashes at a time, you try, and though they are half-lidded and shy, they promise respect for whatever it is I say. They encourage me, Olivia, and I can’t believe it, but I can’t allow myself not to. I want to ask you so much, as I have always been straightforward if roundabout, but I am not sure what my intent  _ should  _ be. 

I don’t figure it out by the time I ask you, either.

_ Perhaps it is out of a desire for comfort, which you amply provide. I will… likely be nervous this entire event. And there are things that my father will likely not wish to see…  _ I gulp.  _ But it matters not. I would like to formally ask you if you would be my date to the dance tomorrow.  _

Your eyes widen.  _ O-oh, yeah, I totally am gonna go with you. L-like I said.  _ That is not how I meant it, and the tone in your voice knows that. 

_ I know. I trust that.  _ I clear my throat, watching as your eyes meet mine on a dare from your heart.  _ I wanted to ask for something a step deeper, in that…  _ I admit that I am so rarely nervous, but right now I could fall over dead from a heart attack and that would make a fine mess of things. Not thinking of the things I am about to say seems to be how I transcend those nerves. At the very least, I should hope. 

_ I sincerely would like to be your person for this event. If you would have me, that is. _

Your eyes widen and you gasp so loudly, hand to your mouth, that I mistake you for a comedy actress before realizing that you are entirely serious, which should not surprise me. Your reactions are generally so small to things you anticipate happening; you’d frighten an off-duty paramedic with your reactions to things you cannot predict at all. Honestly, though… how could you not predict this? Even with it on a very thin line between platonic and non, I feel like I’d have guessed by now were I you.

_ Y-your dad, though… he gonna be cool about it? _

I scowl.  _ I am asking this regardless of what my father would think. I suppose that anything I do, he would take badly. But you are right to worry. Still, I would hope to never let you get caught up in our drama.  _

You look at me with sincere fright, trying to get a grasp on your emotions. I hate causing turmoil in your heart when you are in a weakened state as it is, but I do want this, and the idea of him will not rob me once more. With the sort of charisma only spite can afford, I say,  _ I always was a rebellious child, Olivia, and should you permit me, I would love to show you just how much I am. _

There are many smiles that I have seen from you. A shy smile that is barely shown but is clearly felt when you are near strangers. A gleeful smile when you are around your friends when they endear you. A sneaky smile when you remember something that you know embarrasses only I out of the two of us. A shocked smile akin to a gasp when something is a pleasant surprise. I have seen those and more over the course of the last day alone, and yet this one I have not. It is a serene smile, with a hint of all four of the above smiles while looking like it contains the secrets of the world. It says that things have fallen into place, and though you are not sure how you are not about to object.

_ I’d… I-I’m h-h-honored that you e-even asked me, Mari.  _ Your next few words appear to be a struggle and I worry that this will not go the way that I hoped, and that will be hard to swallow, as I am not even sure what my motivations were for asking.  _ I… I’d love to.  _

I can only smile in relief and happiness. You seem to realize implications that even I do not, and we both seem surprised that you accepted.  _ I’d love to! It’ll be such a fun time! A-and that way I can be there for you. Be there… f-for you... I-I-I…  _ You rub your eyes and, in a herky-jerky second, reach your arms towards me.  _ C-can I hug you?  _

_ Of course you can, silly.  _

You embrace as tightly as ever. Perhaps tighter still, though I might be imagining it. I surprise myself by leaning into things with more commitment than I ever have before. Your words are felt in my shoulder as much as heard.  _ I totally didn’t expect this. _

_ Honestly… I’m a little surprised by myself. _

Yet at the same time, I am not. I would go with no other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is Part 1 down. 
> 
> Part 1.
> 
> Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-


	11. Preparation (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of Part II. The epilogue will follow. I was a lot looser with this one- be warned, or don't!

_ You ASKED her OUT?! _

I shan’t bore you with the details of the myriad of stickers and emojis Lissa sent my way afterward. No doubt she’s fielding both sides of the conversation as it is. Gods only know what you're saying about me, hopefully, nothing that gives me pause. Asking you to the dance, as unspecified as it is even to the woman who asked it, took a lot of faith that I did not know I have, but the way you said my name in farewell as I left your apartment told me that it is good to shut your brain off and take risks every now and again. 

Regardless, I feel as though I should check my words twice when I respond, as Lissa  _ is  _ nosy.  _ You seem surprised by this, Lissa. Olivia would be fine company and can keep me pleasantly distracted, which might be necessary for a night like this.  _

_ on the first date too? Damn, Id never take you 4 that type ;-)  _

I receive it impatiently.  _ I know not what you meant by that, but it likely would not end well if I asked. _

_ hmmm…  just wonderin how badly you wanna  _ spinning top emoji  _ her _ laugh emoji. Unfortunately, you made me aware of the definition of that slang term, and I wish you had not.  _ I could tell 4 AGES u had the hots for her and it's about time!  _

_ Lissa, nothing about our meeting tomorrow will be carnal. It  _ is  _ out of love, yes, but love as a friend as well as trust. I promise you that it will be decent.  _

_ Awwwww. Probably just bummed her out.  _

_ That will be quite enough from you, Lissa. But I do look forward to seeing you tomorrow.  _

A short time before the next reply lets me collect myself.  _ Looking forward to it too!!! Were gonna have SO much fun. All I can say is tho. Mars. Remember. no matter what friendo bs you wanna say- treat liv like YOUR lady. Ykno. Just in case ;)  _

I smile at that idea. I'm not sure what my intent is at this moment, but at the very least this  _ does  _ give me free rein to spoil her a little bit should I want to. Honestly, something more fun I cannot imagine.

_ I absolutely will. Good night, Lissa. I love you.  _ Then I remember that I am speaking to Lissa, not you, and remove the I. I've found that the words  _ I love you  _ unreduced have the power of megaton bombs depending on the people involved; their potency both simple and challenging to reduce.

_ Love you too!  _

I smile, even though the smile is less so when we part. I've never been able to entirely get used to saying goodbye to Lissa, as once upon a time I was worried I would never get to say hello again. I was selfish, asking for too much of her time and attention, and when she could take no more and stepped away to heal, I feared that our last memory would be of me ruining the one friendship I had, and even now, the tiniest part of me fears that she still will leave me alone, permanently this time. I hold the phone close as sleep comes to take me far too slowly. That way, Lissa neither truly leaves me or realizes how desperately I need her still. 

I wake up thinking of you. It's five again, and I force myself up and at my closet in my efforts to begin to prepare for work. Then I realize that it is Saturday and even my wretched father has held off from such cruelty of a six-day week. Not only that, but he's held off on any additional projects that I can and had better help him with. It's a free day. 

I settle back down to sleep and though I'm swallowed by anticipation, over time I do. When I wake once more, my hand is across the bed and your absence jars me as much as my realization of how hard I have fallen for you, Olivia. I truly hope that someday I can wake up without such encompassing longing, but I am getting impatient. 

It is a reasonable enough hour, and I feel like I have much to do, so I wake up. I must pace myself by force, making a new batch of coffee, taking the garbage out, and making my bed. There is entirely too little to do, and I settle for needless household chores to make do as I hear nine chimes, then ten, then eleven. 

Surrendering to wretched anticipation, I begin my routine. As I shower thoroughly for about thirty minutes' time, lotion myself thoroughly, and shave my body head-to-toe in anticipation of the dress, I can't help but feel proud of myself for putting in all of this effort, yet also ashamed that what once felt like a biblical rule- strict hygienic upkeep- is now very foreign to me. 

By the time I finish shaving, the clock chimes twelve and I allow myself to check my phone. You have messaged me several times, saying  _ k so it starts at like 5 lissa said. either will b early cause nerves or late bc forrest wants me 2 look perfect.  _

_ yea I kinda let slip that u asked me.  _ To many people, I've found out, but no matter.  _ it was GAME OVER after that. Hes STILL HERE and hes tryina get my garments to fit right  _

_ oh it's so troublesome to fit it on u properly OH is it REALLY forrest. I wonder WHO MADE IT.  _ Tea emoji. 

_ but its TOTALLY cute tho! Hes a great fashion designer i promise.  _ And here you have a sticker of a girl with sparkly eyes before adding  _ u can be the judge of that  _

I smirk, something immature and rascally causing heat beneath the towel.  _ Quite. I  _ will _ be the judge of that, but I've a strong feeling you are to pass. Though I feel that even as you are, you would likely do so as well. _

I leave the bathroom, phone in my hand, towel feeling quite loose. The vibration is in my hand this time

_ DRFWFWWAGWGWWG STOP _

I  _ do  _ stop on command, concerned that I am pushing too hard. I'm rusty on flirting, dearest, as the only one I even attempted it with was Lissa, and that was one of the first alarms in her head that I felt differently towards her than she wanted. Am I doing the same thing to you? 

_ IM IN THE BATHROOM  _

_ BTW _

_ I DOUBT I AM AS CUTE AS YOU THINK RN  _

I knead my forehead.  _ Oh. Then I shall refrain from comment.  _ Upon sending the message I set the phone down with a sigh, worry growing in my stomach. I do not want to get anxious about this. I want to enjoy this evening with you… but I suppose I am not Maribelle if I do not sabotage myself. 

_ Oh its okay! im just like are u trying to melt me?! but go ahead. melting is fun!  _

My eyebrows raise again. Are you quite sure, Olivia? I am feeling rather randy at this moment. In fact, in an effort to restrain myself, I do not send more than  _ Ah. Thank you kindly. I shall keep that in mind.  _ Though… do I dare to let something slip that is close to my amorous tendencies towards you?  _ You  _ are  _ quite easy to melt as it is. I'd hate to have you do so before I see you in your dress. _

With that, I finally switch to a camisole and set of white tights to lounge in. I message you again.  _ I regret to say that I must prepare more- makeup and haircare are very precise magicks and require my full attention. Until later, Olivia.  _

I don't necessarily mean that as I'd like to rest first, but I cannot imagine that the path that I am prepared to drive us down would end well for us. Besides, I've already set up a perfect opportunity at the dance should things progress more intimately. I'd hate to spoil the fun early. 

_ Ur just gonna. leave. after that. ok fml lmao  _

My smile is Cheshire as I lie down. Admittedly I can be a bit dense romantically but keep sending me these signals and I shall follow wherever they lead. Somewhere along the way, I take the time to paint my nails, choosing a velvety chocolate to complement my cream top.

After I am good and ready, I arise, applying whatever I need. My makeup is enough to soften any of my masculine features, but light afterward, a light that is visible yet not blaring. The hair is where I struggle- preparing it for the curlers is dreary and time-consuming in a way that I'd long and thankfully forgotten. Using them, however, I do ineffectively so many times in the next hour that I nearly throw them all against the nearest durable surface and fish for the straightener. Truly, it has been a while, but I've always been an all-or-nothing type of woman, Olivia, and I eventually succeed in acceptable rolls like I used to have, in orderly rows of chaos cascading down my back. Looking at them atop a body more feminized by the day makes me happier than it should.

Tucking is not easy, and I rarely do so because there is no reason to care all too much. My friends know of my status, and others do not matter. Still, if I am going to wear such an exquisite dress, I best look and feel like I deserve it. Is there concern that others at the ball might notice and react? Yes, but that paranoia is something I live with. More than anything, I wish to be happy with myself. 

I finish everything by cautiously, gingerly placing my dress on. I'm not sure whether or not it could be ironed, and I feel Forrest's absence. It is a struggle to single-handedly tie the corset together, but as faulty as it is a look in the mirror justifies it. My divine curls, my luminous makeup, my marble-smooth skin… hours it may have taken, but I look like a high-class starlet. No… the queen of them all. 

I slip my shoes on, black flats with a film rose on them, with disarming ease. I place a few items in my purse, including my antidepressants and a towel. I consider taking my HRT medications with me, but with a wan tap of my chin, I decide to leave them there. They do tend to cause my hormones to act up rather fruitlessly, and you may do that on your own. I will instead leave my sexual frustration pills at home and be better for it.

Eventually, the clock chimes four and, with a lock of my doors, I leave my house and don't look back.

I'm on the bus twenty minutes after. The hall that your brother will be in is a ways across town so I expect to be late. I text Lissa  _ I might be slightly later than the time we agreed to. The bus is running a fair bit behind and that might jumble up the timeline down the road. I still will be there, so worry not.  _ She responds shortly afterward with a cheery affirmative. 

I message you.  _ Public transportation will be the death of me.  _

_ omg poor u!! so lucky forrest is giving me a ride.  _

_ Lucky indeed. I've had to drape a towel over my seat to avoid sullying my dress. It is at times like these where I wish I could afford my own car.  _

_ oof.  _ A large emoji of the letter F. 

Then, you message me again.  _ im looking forward 2 meeting u there! :×  _

_ Rest assured, I look forward to it as well.  _

A nice, innocent conversation compared to last time, but just as endearing. 

Eventually, we get to the transfer point. My towel and I disembark, and I begin the process anew. The others stare at me more than they do when I am less together, but in an odd way, it is empowering. I do wish they would stop, true, but I know it isn't because they see a man haphazardly trying drag or setting out to con their simple minds. It is because a goddess has set upon their bus, and they know not whether to ask why or simply gaze on her form in worship. 

Being a deity does have its perks.

I arrive at the hall about ten minutes after five, in awe of its twelve-story height and obsidian walls. I'm sure it's likely a hotel, but regardless, it is a political ball for tonight. My pace slows from a confident stride to an apprehensive crawl so quickly that I notice it. In this hall are many things- the friend I used to be in love with, the friend I have strong feelings for, and a father who has never peacefully let me transition from one place to another. I feel like the queen of a one-horse town, and I feel like you will take me higher. When I enter this building, I cannot imagine anything will be the same as it once was. 

So I take a deep breath as I reach the door, clench my fist, and enter the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wanna hug Maribelle and tell her she is wonderful. At other times I have to stifle my giggles around her.


	12. Anticipation

The first thing I see with Lissa is not a thing, but a person- Forrest, dressed in a pink beret, a textured pink coat to his shoulders, a striped blouse, white dress pants, and black dance shoes. His hair is in rolls with more volume than I could have hoped for with mine- the attention he has to haircare is admirable. As is his attention to makeup- I always fear that if I apply too much, I am a clown, yet he does not avoid adding drama to his look- of note is how he manages to accentuate his sharp cheekbones and harsh brow in a way that does not detract from their feminine beauty.

The second thing I see with Lissa is not a thing, but a lack- admittedly it has been a half-year since I last saw her, but I didn't expect her to have cut the pigtails off of her hair and leave it as a nice pixie cut. It looks… distressingly nice on her. She’s wearing a tuxedo-vest with a defiantly rainbow bow-tie and a black-and-white headband made of buttons, and those also look nice on her.

Aside from that, she's near the main lobby in a hallway, Forrest standing behind her in a way that suggests that he was not just here to give you a ride. 

Lissa screams my name and grabs my hand. _Okay. First. You did not_ tell _me that Forrest bought you a dress! You’re just gonna keep it to yourself?_

_I’d assume that he would have told you about it._

Forrest himself nods. _Yes, I apologize, Lissa. It honestly slipped my mind._

_You should tell me these things, boo!_

_I'm a bit lost for a way to have done so without sounding like a braggart. Usually, I have to_ make _clothes to feel as though I warrant a bout of egotism._ He winks. _Speaking of, wait until you see Olivia._

My eyes sparkle at the idea. _Rest assured, I am very eagerly awaiting her appearance._

Lissa claps. _Oh, me too. But, about you. Gods! Mar, you look beautiful. You look like you’re on a harbor in the 1800s waiting for a ship to come in._

I nod. _Perhaps I am, Lissa._

Forrest giggles mischievously, motioning the two of us back. Lissa and I walk towards him together, and she makes sure to muss his hair, to his consternation. _Lissa, I’ll thank you_ not _to!_

 _You love it!_ Lissa giggles and turns to me. _Okay. So. Forrest is my date here._

I blink. This should not annoy me so, as Lissa is not the one that I currently want and Forrest… well, she couldn’t have picked a nicer human being. Forrest is potentially the only man I would trust to date Lissa. I feel rather silly for being jealous at all, and yet… oddly enough, jealousy is how I feel. Still, I smile and say that I’m delighted to hear that, _but it is rather hypocritical that you would not tell me about this considering your reaction to my dress._

Forrest chuckles. _It was a bit last minute._ He then looks at Lissa with exasperated affection that communicates something beyond my ken, a secret language between the two of them. _As I’ve said, though, I do know Lissa from over the years. We run in a lot of the same social scenes._

 _Yeah, Forrest is totally one of my best friends. And just…_ She sighs dreamily. _Like, sometimes it just sort of goes together, you know?_

I smile, feeling knots in my body that confuse me. _Again, I’m delighted to hear this. I have no doubt that you two would complement each other well, even from my limited interactions with Forrest._ I turn to Lissa and adjust her headband. _I should hope that he could temper your wild streak._ Forrest giggles in a way that says that he has already lost such a battle. 

 _Oh, trust me, I’ve already tried to work on getting him to lighten up. He’s like a male you sometimes._ I hold my hip in semi-mock offense, but she cackles. _Don’t play it! You know it’s true!_

Male Maribelle _is a title that I will take with pride._ He turns to me. _May I adjust your corset?_

Thank _you, Forrest. Yes, you may._ I stand across from him, feeling more kin to him as time passes. That makes my jealousy towards him feel even more asinine. I was not remotely jealous of him having been with you in the past, yet… that was your past. This is a hint towards Lissa’s future, and the feeling of an old unrequited flame sears as I remember that her happy ending will not have me in its center as I once hoped. 

No matter. I have my own lady in wait for me that I must attend to. _I don’t suppose you know where Olivia is?_

_Soleil is making sure she is prepared for the evening. Likely in the women’s restroom._

_Please refrain from calling her that; it confuses me and makes me fear that her lascivious cousin will appear from behind the wall._

Lissa speaks over whatever Forrest means to reply; an endearing trait that he will simply have to get used to. _She’s probably hiding in fear because she’s not good enough or something. I feel bad for her._ Forrest frowns, eyes closed, and I mimic him because that is very plausible and also too ridiculous for someone as radiant as you. Then: _I’m gonna message her to get her ass out here._

 _Lissa, let’s not be-_ And then I see you on your phone already, fingers faster than the speed of light. I turn to Forrest and sigh at him. _I wish you the best of luck. Truly, I do._

Forrest giggles under his breath, but it’s the same endeared one I used to have towards Lissa’s rambunctious ways and, despite my protests, still do. _It’s a pleasure to see you again, Maribelle._

I smile. I am a step closer now to creating a union from this acquaintanceship. _Likewise, Forrest._

Lissa slaps her kitten-covered phone wallet closed and says _now we wait._ Wait we do, and my eyes follow theirs. I am more anxious than I anticipated- not at how I fear you will look, but because I will almost certainly be visibly attracted to you, and it will be near impossible to walk that back. This is where everything will change, and… in truth, it does scare me so. 

I hear a set of clomping footsteps that make me turn around and see that my ship has started to come in. Olivia, you look at me in a black and gold dress with razor-thin lace that I mistake as general geometrics until you stalk closer and I recognize them as the language read on ancient Feroxi tomes, arranged in a way that complements your abundant harvest of a dancer's figure as much as its formfitting and peeks of skin that contrast in such a lovely matter. The train… oh, the train is a cloudy wave, a quiet explosion that sticks to all sides like steam to tea. 

It is a mix of gauche elegance and body architecture that looks made with you in mind- no doubt a Forrest creation even if I relied on sight alone. It is a dress to be seen, and darling, you do not often wish to be seen in the way that you do tonight.

Your hair is in a massive ponytail with natural curls, braids by your face to adorn you as well as the rest of your dress. The makeup you wear is more prominent than mine, applied in the masterstroke of someone who knows how to highlight your soft features. You are… you are… well, if I am the queen of a one-horse town, you are the stony yet fierce empress of the realm that said town is in. 

Forrest beams so powerfully with pride that I cannot see him and yet I am still burnt. _Remarkable, is it not?_ While I want to say that he has every right to be proud, words are failing me right now, so I just hold his hand and watch you meet my gaze with a weak smile. You gasp, hand over your mouth, and run across the distance between us as Forrest warns you about your legs (and indeed, it took me until now to notice your cane) but you arrive in front of me and take my hand in yours. 

_I… I always knew you had it in you, Maribelle._

Your voice is so hoarse that I fear that you have been crying, but you have that look in your eye that melts me, that spoils me with your care, so I smile back as I ask _Are you alright, Olivia?_

_J-just nervous. But… I'm so happy to see you._

_As am I you._

You giggle with the nerves you promised and take my arm. Next to each other, you very modern and me taking shelter in the past, we look both mismatched to a passerby, but also like we are there for each other, and I love that. 

 _So, thirty after, Chrom's doing a speech._ Lissa thinks with a mocking scowl. _Sorry, I mean_ Representative Mercer. Lissa sticks her tongue out, and I giggle. _I'm gonna probably do a speech. I, uhm… might mention your names, and talk about you. Is that all cool? I can totally go incognito if you wa-_

Without a second thought: _Absolutely, Lissa. I'd be honored._ Upon saying that, I regret not thinking it through. Some bells cannot be unrung. You nod with the caution that I wish I knew.

Lissa lights up. _Oh my gosh, thank you both._ Clapping your nerves away with a violent _thwack_ that makes a jumpy you jumpier, she stands tall, or as tall as she can given her height. _Right! Um, so maybe you two can kill time there and just get situated to the venue._

Savoring the opportunity for payback that Lissa has given me: _I'd be remiss to remind you that you have a date here as well. Perhaps you should attend to him._ As if I called upon him, Forrest raises his hand. 

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. _You what? Forrest!!_ Unlike my initial reaction, you seem jubilant.

 _Lissa has an unfortunate prankster streak. Someone has to keep her in proper boundaries._ With caution, he walks next to Lissa and kisses her nose briefly. Odd how us being in this finicky in-between zone leaves us more affectionate than the two dates; at the same time, I suppose it works for them.

 _I'll behave,_ Lissa whines, hand drifting into his for a moment. _And I'll see you afterward, boo. Gods strike me down if I'm lying._

With that, she scampers out of the area and into an offhand door. Forrest stands beside us both. _May I show you to the auditorium?_

 _I-I'd like that._ Contrary to your nod, however, you look terrified, as though things are beginning without you being prepared. I take your hand and I feel tension drift from your body. _I'd like that._

Forrest smiles at us in his signature mien of distant amusement and affectionate gait. With a beckon, he leads us to a nearby door that leads into an auditorium where I see several people preparing, Chrom Mercer in the center. As we go to sit down, he and I exchange a greeting. He smiles at you, and you wave. 

Forrest touches your shoulder. _If you don't mind, I will be sitting in the front row. For Lissa's sake._

 _By all means._ You wave him farewell as he takes a seat in the front row, navigating the cushion fold-out chair. Chrom talks to him with the ease of a politician who doesn't know the man before him is taking his sister on a date, and I'm not sure if that is due to Chrom's charisma or Forrest's.

You start to breathe easily at my side, placing your hands into my lap. I take them both and smile at you. _You look exquisite._ Exquisite is a bit of a fallback word, true, yet you own it like no other. 

_You too. Like… you always dress so… business, I guess. And like, this transformation. It's like… you're like a fairy tale right now. The pauper turns into the princess. A-and I'm just… in awe._

_Do I truly strike you as a pauper?_

_I-I mean, like, not in personality. You're super fancy in person, but… it always felt like you were holding yourself back._

More than you know, my dearest. _And now?_

_Now… you're not. And I'm happy for you, Mari. You seem… brighter._

I'm blushing, but I challenge anyone not to. _Olivia, I'll admit that I scarcely know about fairy tales. But is there not always a royal that prompts a transformation of the pauper? A princess, per-_

_Maribelle._

I jolt upward at a woefully familiar presence. You look up and start to ask me something, but the way your eyes shrink gives you your answer. The man pulls his seat from its stand and sits next to me. He is gaunt and passionless, hand always resting on his chin like he is thinking or stroking his goatee. He doesn't look at me, and yet I can feel his eyes on the back of his head.

I try to nod. I don't try to smile. 

_Good evening to you, Father._

Nothing else can and will be said between us. You shrink in his company, eyes always dodging his and greetings returned rather reluctantly. You are terrified enough to shake, your hands composing a symphony with how your fingers rattle and hum in mine.

Chrom starts his speech and, as anyone could have predicted, I am bored to tears. I've heard enough of Ylissean men prattling on about nothing that will affect them like cute concepts to know if Chrom is actually doing that- apologies to Lissa. I'm focused on two things- my father to my left, and you to my right. My favorite and least favorite people in the same ten feet of each other. You'd think the bad would cancel the good, but my stomach has decided otherwise. 

Father doesn't say anything. I keep expecting him to reprimand me for not telling him that I would grace him with his presence, or say something crude about my appearance or my choice in friends. The way he casts aside glances at my person does make me think that those insults are boiling inside, and I can only raise my eyebrow, daring him to make a scene. But a _scene_ is something Dennis Gleason VII does not make. Instead, he keeps his eye on the speech from Chrom, and I try to divert my mental focus to where our hands connect hidden between the seats. 

Eventually, I hear Lissa's name. Chrom has gestured towards her and says that she would like to say some words. I turn to her and, releasing your hand, applaud with the crowd. You do the same, then we reconnect where we once were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have only now realized that the epilogue will likely span about 6k words once we get there.
> 
> Forrest and Lissa seem like a weird pairing on paper. Either there's a large age difference ONE way or she's an Awakening Gen 1 and he's a Fates Gen 2. But one, this is an AU otherwise Soleil could not be Liv's COUSIN, two I know what I am doing. I should release a companion fic someday, the HC I have for them is RICH


	13. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is shorter than others
> 
> and next one will be big
> 
> this is my compromise

Lissa descends the platform with stage fright in her eyes. Polite applause rips through the crowd, Olivia and I the loudest of all. I am proud, and Olivia is touched. In some ways, the speech is what I expected of Lissa- a little clunky, more reliant on her carefree charm than a haughty sense of perfection that many other speakers have. In others, it is more than I did- though Lissa is a compassionate one, I almost feel like her speech was made with us in mind, and I am not sure how to sort my assuredly positive emotions on the situation, especially given how dire her own situation she spoke of.

I forget Father is there until he feels the need to crack _I’d hoped that she would give the mic to someone who could use it. Her brother has certainly spoken enough._ Sadly, I agree with the last bit, but keep it to myself.

 _I-I think it w-was a metaphor?_ I’m surprised to hear you speak, especially to a stranger, but keep my face plain. The effort is visible, but I don’t mind if you notice. _L-like, i-if she g-gave it… to s-someone…_ You gulp, and I stroke your knuckle. _It would b-be weird…_

Father nods. _Still, it would be subversive, and I would admire it._ I snort at the idea of Father admiring anything that myself or one of my friends do, especially on a subject that involves the richest, highest-class men not being the only voice with power in a room. _What say you, Maribelle? I would imagine you would do well if called upon?_

I close my eyes, my heart rate rising. Odd how he calls me Maribelle around others. _Given the subject, who’s to say?_

Father turns to meet your eyes. _I suppose you are Maribelle’s friend?_ You nod, and he smiles, though it looks more like a grimace. _I’m quite happy that Maribelle made another friend. She so rarely gets that opportunity._ I burn because I know what he meant, but I do not want to risk calling him out. He holds out his hand and you limply shake it, though he takes charge and jerks your hand up and down hard enough to dislocate it. You try not to wince as he stops. 

_Dennis Gleason the Seventh._

_O-Olivia. J-just Olivia._

_Oh? You don’t have a last name? I’d almost think you were living life on the lam. Getting by on the goodness of others and a little bit of administrative fraud._ You try your best to fake a sincere laugh, but you are terrified, Olivia, and you two had barely just met. 

I sigh. I am already sick to death of his faux-innocent antics meant to get a rise from people. _Perhaps it is just not relevant to this matter, Father._

Father looks ahead, after which I close my eyes. _Perhaps not. I am just making conversation. Judging from Lissa's speech, you are Feroxi?_ Compliantly, you nod. _That is lovely to hear. You lit up in such a way when she talked about you. It was disarming, though you needn't be so shy about it. You appear to be very lovely._

You smile meekly, too anxious to mean it. _Th-thank you, M-mr. Gleason. I appreciate it_. I squeeze your hand to let you know that I've already ascertained your discomfort and offer commiseration. 

 _Your voice is so shaky._ Father elbows me, and I am immediately filled with a desire to stab him. Has your cane a hidden sharp end? _Is she telling you a lot of bad things about me?_

Courage is so often motivated by spite, so I say _Father, I'd ask you to ease up on her. She is anxious in social situations and you are overwhelming her at first glance._ I immediately regret it, but that just makes me harden my expression further because Naga will have to burn my face off before it reveals to him an ounce of weakness.

Father _hmmphs_ . Ease up, _eh? I don't recall teaching you that one._ He laughs, I don't, and you barely can force one out. _Regardless, it is certainly nice to meet you, Olivia. Friend of Maribelle’s, woman of mystery._

_N-nice to meet you too._

It falls quiet again because that will be quite enough from him. I almost focus on whatever Chrom is saying about unity being important just to get my mind off of my father. You notice that I am stiff with terror and stroke my knuckles, but I know that you are anxious as well, and I am not sure if I have the strength to save the wounded when I am wounded as well. 

Father speaks again, and I suck in a breath. _A fine speech. I would caution him, however. There is a reason that high and lower class are separated. They are fine, noble classes that are worlds apart in experiences and life. I fear that to bridge the gap, you would have to sacrifice many of those experiences- something that the Mercer representatives seem to have missed._

Neither of us responds. I'd imagine we'd both rather eat glass.

_I do hope it was worth showing up unannounced, Maribelle._

I growl. Of course, he would sneak that in.

Any ill-advised urgings to respond break when Chrom’s speech comes to an end and a break is called for dinner, you and I both loosen the tension that defined us and I open my eyes. _Forgive me, Maribelle._ Father stands to face us both. _Busy men are best not idle._ Oh, I've heard that before. 

I shake my head. _Certainly not. Later._ He chuckles and so do you before you can stop yourself.

 _It was a pleasure to meet your_ friend. _Who knows what other mysteries such a woman has._ With that, he walks out of the row before I can respond, and thank the Gods for that, because I would have. 

_I apologize, Olivia. He is… as I said, a handful._

You shake your head. _Yeah… no wonder you try and avoid him so much. B-but it’s okay. I knew that this was coming. You know…_ You bow. _I shouldn't get so worked up. It's not like he said anything to really directly set me off._

Dancing around things is one of my father's favorite attributes. _You are valid, Olivia. Let's… take our mind off of things._

So we do. We walk by Father as he talks to Chrom- who looks distantly amused- about Mother, who passed away over a decade ago. He says he's still feeling that loss and, sadly, I believe him on that. I also agree, a pang in my heart as I think of how she trained the daughter she never knew she had by example. I swallow and walk away from him because he is far past the point of deserving to see my tears. 

We approach Lissa and Forrest, sitting next to each other. Forrest has his hand resting on Lissa's shoulder blade, rubbing circles into it, and Lissa looks entirely emotionally exhausted with tears only recently shed but very pleased with herself all the same. _I didn't expect one speech to like… take it out of me, but…_ A large yawn. _I wanna sleep for the night._

_Wait about twelve minutes or so. You'll change your tune._

Lissa socks Forrest with no force. _I mean, I_ know, _but you didn't have to_ say _it._ I do like how she thinks that her being more energetic than likely the three of us combined is in any way a secret.

 _In any case, I hope you do not mind if I embrace you. A speech like that deserves it._ Before she can affirm anything, I bend down and take her in my arms. _You were remarkable up there. Without exaggeration and with all the pride in the world, I deem you a true star in the making._

Lissa hugs back. She's such a tiny thing but she could suffocate me like a bouquet of flowers in my throat. _Oh my Gosh, Maribelle. I, uhm…_ She's silent and when she speaks again, you are cracking. _D-do you think she would be proud?_

_More certain than I am of anything._

Lissa sighs with melancholy happiness. _That's… that's really good._

You speak when you're sure she's silent. _I-I really liked y-your speech, Lissa._ Lissa looks up from my arms with a smile. _I, uh… don't always f-feel like… p-people understand me. Like, I-I don't even know i-if I do. S-so… it uplifted me._

Lissa closes her eyes, relieved. _I'm so glad. You deserve that._ I finally let Lissa go so I can squeeze your hand. _So do you, Maribelle. And you, Forrest. I have the best friends._

Forrest strokes her hair, and she leans into his hand like a cat. _Lissa, you are exquisite._ I look at you with a steamy grin, and you return with the hearts in your eyes that one of your text stickers would have. I'm amused that he uses what may be my favorite word in _exquisite_. I like how he makes it sound. 

Suddenly, Lissa nearly leaps to her feet. Alarmed that she is no longer where his hand is, Forrest follows her up. _Oh! And now you know what? My brother's not making any more speeches, so it's close to dinner time. We can go there and chill out, the four of us. Then, I don't care who else speaks, it's party time!_

Forrest chuckles. _I think I was ten minutes too late._ I titter in response, and Lissa sighs. 

_He knows me too well. It's kind of scary, but I love it._

_Obviously not as well as I thought, else I wouldn't have estimated so far off the mark._

Lissa snuggles into his arm, lighting up my insides from the vestiges of envy and failure, no doubt. _Close enough, Forre._ Turning to us: _come on, let's do this!_

Letting go of my own angst, I turn to you with a wink. _I hope to make dinner better than the show._

You giggle. _Ever the lady, aren't you, Mari?_ I curtsy dramatically and link my arm with yours, at this rate living up to my ladyship, even though I fear more and more that this might have been a bad idea for the both of us.


	14. Exhiliration

The familiarity makes me want to weep.

The double date commences as we sit at a small round table with stacked dinner plates. Lissa has both the heartiest plate and the least table manners, talking about Chrom's campaign when her mouth is full. Everyone cringes when she does, Forrest especially- but she shakes it off.  _ Look, you don't gotta like it but a girl's gotta eat.  _ As much as he looks away and mumbles an oh-dear at Lissa when she does, I believe that deep down, Forrest  _ does  _ like it. 

Their coupling was so odd that I still don't believe it. The air around Forrest is one of very sophisticated and delicate intrigue, one whose gentle brush of hand can prompt one to consider jumping off a cliff with him. Yet Lissa needs no prompting or temptation. She will get a running start and only look to see if one will join her for a brief moment. I look at you when Forrest pointedly hands Lissa a napkin, trying to commiserate, but you are over the moon, watching them interact like the fates tying two strings intimately together.

You and Forrest talk. You don't bring up sensitive subjects in public, but you do ask him how some of his clothes are progressing. He says he's doing well for designing for,  _ I suppose, five foot eight dancers with an athletic build-  _ to which you outstretch and flex your muscular arm with a giggle- but he needs some new clients  _ of different builds _ . Lissa slaps his arm with violent enthusiasm and says that she's totally there if she needs him. Forrest gives her a smug smile and says that she should be warned.  _ My garments do tend to bring out the princess in everyone.  _ Lissa laughs and wishes him luck, and he asks if that's a challenge. You giggle and hold my arm close, even though you've squarely been pushed out of Forrest's way in this conversation.

I dab my face with a napkin.  _ I will say, based on what I've seen, I'm already very wowed.  _

Forrest nods, charmed _. I will take that with a grain of bias. Olivia makes everything she wears beautiful. _

Olivia blushes.  _ Oh my goodness, Forrest.  _

I look at you as if to admit that Forrest has a point.  _ Still, I am impressed at your impeccable taste.  _ Forrest thanks me, and I wink impishly, to which everyone laughs.  _ What’s so funny about winking? Is it just because  _ I  _ did it?  _

_ Absolutely it was. Like, I didn’t know you  _ could  _ do that.  _ Lissa ducks afterward.  _ I mean, you're very much not subtle. Don't try and take my date, okay?  _

You shove me lightly, playfully to assure me that I've not crossed a line.  _ Right? Rude! Like, when Forrest said he's coming with I'm like, oh my God can this be, like, the first time you don't outshine me? _

You joke, but I hear a tear of insecurity in your voice.  _ Worry not. He's hardly done  _ that. 

_ Oh Naga, Mari.  _ You squeeze my arm down to the bicep. I see Lissa whisper something derisive into Forrest's ear, at which he giggles secretively. I raise a suspicious eyebrow at Lissa, and she waves me off. I heat up with annoyance and embarrassment, but above all, I feel weirdly satisfied. I am at a table with the woman I used to be in love with, the woman I secretly have feelings for, and the only man on Earth that I have ever been attracted to, and yet I am having such a blast feeling all of their energies as they intersect, overlap, and fade in and out of my consciousness. 

_ I would like to make a proposition. _

All three of you look at me, Lissa gesturing in front of her as if to hand me the floor. 

_ I suggest that we do this more often.  _

I could say more, but at the same time, could I? These emotions have not words, but feelings. I just know that, at this moment, there is much that I feel grateful and, though I shouldn't feel safe, I feel like all three of you are doing so well at shielding me from the outside world. 

Forrest smiles, so clearly honored.  _ Maribelle, we can do so as often as you would like. This group of people is a little slice of heaven. _

Lissa grins.  _ Yes! You are all the people I want in my life.  _

I blush and turn to you, amazed at the response. You do not let my heart rest.  _ You're my three favorite people. I'm so happy to know you, you know?  _

I duck, trying not to cry as the love of everyone embraces me and thank you all silently. Time passes and I shake tears from my eyes before I look up. 

Lissa looks at a clock, drumstick in hand.  _ Dancing has probably already started if you…  _ You use it to boorishly point at the dance floor, which is, in reality, an offshoot of the dining hall, covered in wooden floors with a pseudo-humble brick wall surrounding the sides not flanked by a large glass window. On a stage at the end, a string band plays something rustic and homey. A small group of couples that Lissa would passively deem  _ The Heteros™  _ dance along as if they simply wish to pass time and are repulsed by the idea of enjoying themselves. Watching them bores me to tears, so I turn back to my plate, slightly emptier now than it was when I got it. 

Lissa gestures at the dancers.  _ Someone's not having a happy Cavalier Summer Sales Event.  _ You crack a guilty laugh as Lissa starts to lose herself at her own words. Forrest and I exchange a subtle look beneath polite smiles. Best not to interrupt your fun. 

Lissa turns to Forrest and whispers something scandalous, something that she continuously looks at us- by now at the same side of the table- to make sure we cannot hear. One of the times she looks at me, I give a cheeky wave, and you slap my arm in a playful scold. 

_ I have an idea. Hold on, hold on. _

She scampers away at inhuman speed, causing me to look at you in disbelief, then at Forrest, who looks distinctly nonplussed.  _ The day will never come where she acts like the political power player she is destined to be. My apologies, Forrest. _

Forrest sighs dramatically, hat on his chest. _By now, I've been used to being stood up so cruelly._ Before I can sincerely tell him not to lose heart, he perks up. _Not to worry._ _In all of my time knowing Lissa, this is in fact everything I expected._

You snort, eyeing your flats.  _ You should see our Khans. If you're talking about immature politicians, they're a trip.  _

Forrest looks up.  _ You have multiple Khans? _

You nod. Waiting politely until you've swallowed a green bean:  _ Ferox has a hella weird political system. Long story short, our two Khans fight for sovereignty and both are the weird relatives you have over for the holidays. _

Forrest holds his napkin to his mouth.  _ They sound more like gladiators than leaders!  _

_ You don't know the half of it, hon. _

I take a sip of water.  _ I've only researched the one in power. The lady, Khan Flavia. I thought it best to start my research into foreign politics with her and she was fascinating enough that I did not proceed further. I think I had a Khan Flavia phase for about a month. _

You giggle.  _ Every girl in Feroxi has a Khan Flavia phase. Even the ones that never thought they would. And…  _ Your giggle is a warning.  _ Yours just came later than most. And that’s okay! _

I ignore your playful hinting, though I am grateful that you and I can translate each other at this point. I let a chance to vent about second puberties go by with a flippant farewell and cede to Forrest.  _ That sounds like my Auntie. She catches the eye of a lot of young women who are, let’s say, on the fence.  _

I face Forrest.  _ And she is a Nohrian political player, correct? What a fantastic influence for them! _

_ I mean, that's all well and good until you sit back and…  _ Forrest blushes, which is rare enough for you to give a bemused glance at.  _ She’s exceedingly flirtatious, even in the public eye. I can’t act as though I’ve never been the same, but… well, she's my aunt. A small part of me will never get used to my aunt being a sex symbol.  _

_ Well, if it helps, your aunt's doing an amazing public service for all the budding sapphics in the world.  _

Forrest chokes on his tea. I gasp as he coughs, beet red.  _ Thank you for informing me, Olivia. I'll be sure to pass along my thanks at my earliest convenience, should you not have rendered me dead from embarrassment. _

I tut.  _ Now now, Olivia, do your best to avoid giving this young man a heart attack.  _ Forrest gives me a grateful look, to which my eyes apologize.  _ Though I suppose for the sake of study, I should have no choice but to see her myself. _

Forrest looks near permanent choking, pounding inelegantly on the table. You're laughing yourself under the table at this incredibly hormonal discussion, hand still in mine.  _ Oh my God, Mari, what is it that you're even resear- _

You stop. Bending your ear towards the music, you nearly jump up when the first notes drop with a thudding drum and grand string orchestra that reverberates through the whole hall via stereo.

_ No way.  _

I look at Forrest, and then at you.  _ Darling, what has gotten you so worked-  _

You grab my hand.  _ I-I-I love this song! I love this- I just found, like, a video that had th-this song in it the other day. And-and-and it's really good and I j-just…  _ You are stuttering like mad, but I can tell that it's excited stuttering. You beckon towards me and say  _ Come on!  _

Before I can ask what in blazes has gotten into you, you stand, leaning on your cane but still bouncing around in your stance.  _ Let's dance! _

_ B-but- are you serious?  _ I hiss, standing with you.  _ The last time you tried this, you tumbled over!  _

Your eyes smoke over with determination, and I can only meet them with curiosity.  _ I'll hold onto you and I'll be fine. I'm sure of it.  _

That's it. A switch flips and my countenance goes from concern to confidence. The privilege to help you dance again just became all mine.  _ Then you'd better hold on tight, dearest.  _

You drop your cane where it stands, and it clatters against the surface of the table before surrendering to the ground. I mouth an apology to Forrest, but he looks past me with a victorious smile. Instantly, your hands are around my neck, and as though I'm shocked to have the honor, I place mine around your waist so you do not fall, as invasive as I feel. 

_ I apologize for my lack of experience.  _ Though we are already taking light steps to the music.  _ Given the circumstances of your injuries and your professional knowledge, I would let you take the lead. _

_ You will? Okay. Then hush and enjoy the moment. The beat's gonna drop soon.  _

Moment. You, Olivia, are a moments girl; you've said it yourself. Is this a  _ moment  _ for you? Of course, it is, you are dancing again for the first time since your injury, the curve of your hips smoothly swaying to match the uneven shake of my own arrow-straight hips like you hadn't lost a day of learning. Yet, you instructed me to enjoy the moment. Enjoy yours? Or have you handed me a moment to share together? 

The beat drops- quite subtly given what little I know about this genre- and your steps become wider. It's at first unnerving, but truth be told I feel my heart beating faster and ordering my feet to match. I match to the beat of the song, now a techno-oriented experience. You coo, surprised yet impressed, and risk following me. We dance back and forth, a step forward and a step back, before branching out into a classic box step- slow, to cope with your injuries. You nearly match my height- I'm a small girl given my circumstance- and I maintain your eye contact. You are shy and nervous, but you don't look away.

The song comes to a slow.  _ That was short.  _

You giggle at my misinformed disappointment.  _ It's still going.  _

_ Oh. I welcome that.  _ Then I obey your order of silence from earlier.

As the music reaches a lower arc, you pull me closer, and as such my arms wrap tighter around your waist, hanging on for dear life. I'm blushing furiously enough to immolate us both, but since you'd like me to be silent, I keep any justifications to myself. We move slower together as only a piano over light synths keeps us company, the soundtrack to the questions inside my head. Are there others on the dance floor? Is it just us? Why is this song so different than the classical music playing before? Why is it that you look at me so deeply with shaky, sparkling eyes that waver up and down from my gaze, and for God's sake why do I want to kiss you right here and now? 

No. Never mind. I should shut my brain off and enjoy the moment- if such a thing is possible for Maribelle.

_ I'm gonna try something. Hold onto my hand.  _ I obey, taking hold of your right.

The music starts to pick up to the beat of a drum. You wink and fly behind me, gripping my hand with all that you've got in me. I yelp and turn to follow you, but you zip behind my back with clumsy steps, a messy second half to a single mirror image. You grab my left hand, and at this point, I feel more terrified than you do, oh daring Olivia. I feel your head rest on my shoulder and do my best to make eye contact. Your blush is deep, yet you know you are exquisite. 

Your legs buckle, but you stand again before I can catch you. I grip your hands harder as if to beg you to be careful. Then I see the edge of your thigh through the sheer as your leg kicks draped in your dress, and my attention to care gets fuzzy. I believe that I fear to fall into a messy paste of a person more than you fear to fall onto the ground.

When you spin around to me, I catch you, only to find too late that you are back-first and I have gripped two copious handfuls of your breasts. I yelp, a deep shade of red, and move my hands upwards by the scar on your neck. Again, you hold them, then in an instant among the instants you move in, our left and right hands are as far apart as can be from each other, yet you have laced your fingers in mine. Then, they are back on your chest, and you lean your chin onto its tip. I rest my head over your shoulder with similar serenity, and I know my breath is hot on your neck. My heart beats against my chest faster as the music tenses, and you rest your head against mine, as though you are asleep, as though we are not here, as though no one is watching, no one is judging, and for my money, damn them all to hell. Do you not know what you are doing to me, Olivia? Have you me at your fingertips by complete chance?

This cannot be. Please, Olivia, do not let this be. 

The music revives, and my joints loosen to the point where I nearly trip. I regain my composure before it drops again, but you notice with a knowing glaze in the corner of your eye. You twist around my hand and take the side of my waist. Your right hand stays on my left and we outstretch them like a guiding arrow. You follow that arrow in a chasse and I am in lockstep- is it out of feeling the moment or an intrinsic desire to impress you? Who’s to say? That all goes away when you take my hand and twirl around it, and I can only stand there like a gaping mannequin as your body twists with my hand as the center-

And then your legs start to give out. You crumple and then lean backward- and before I can even think, my hand is at your back and the other on your hip, holding you up. There’s a shock in your eyes, but any other emotion I cannot make out. I pull you to your feet, though you still shake, and I pull you close to me, my hand in between your shoulder blades and the other clutched on your hip-laden sheer. I decide not to move it unless you tell me to, and thankfully, you do not, instead throwing your hands around my chest as the drums stop.

I lean forward and kiss you on the lips. Chaste, yet lingering. Your hands drop from my chest and brush against my thighs, and when I face you, you are shocked, though certainly not unpleasantly so.  _ Wh-what was that all about? _

The music begins to die and I smile, feeling rather forceful confidence.  _ Feeling the moment.  _

The next thing I hear is Lissa cheering from my approximate right, clapping and giving you praise for your impeccable dancing. You finally regain your  _ deer-in-headlights  _ complexion and let her hug you within an inch of your life. I give you a shy smile that I intended to read that I would expect no less than for Lissa to bear hug you, but I feel doesn’t contain a coherent thought other than… I suppose, the infatuation of seeing you being yourself, just being… and I suppose that is when I fully and inarguably realize that I am in love with you. 

_ I- uh- cane!  _

To my left, I watch Forrest helpfully pick it up off of the floor and hand it to you as Lissa tells you how amazing it is to see you dance again. You agree with a quiet, shaky voice and take it, limping over to your chair.  _ Sorry, I’m just- I uh- h-h-h-h-h… j-just… _

Forrest himself looks near to tears, and I squeeze his hand for a brief moment. He looks down at me with thankful eyes, adjusting his beret needlessly. You sit in a chair, dazed, and I smile with a hand on my hip. For a brief second, I feel a loveless gaze on my shoulder, but when I turn there is no one there, so I give myself permission to be content. If others were watching, it was because there was no sight like us.

_ She was wonderful.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where were you when Olivia claimed ODESZA for the sapphics


	15. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hella long so I had to split it in half. I'll post half two later.

Lissa teases me. Lissa teases me often, delighting at every flash of embarrassment that dashes on my face. Usually, I would like to think that I have gotten good at not giving her the undignified responses she wants; however, right now, I am not in a state to deflect them. 

We are waiting in the hall near the bathroom you claimed that you would be using, insisting that you would be fine and just needed to cool down. I suppose my annoyance with her began when she joked  _ yeah, don’t go in and help her!  _ As of now, I resemble a beet and I note that you ducked into the restroom immediately after, mumbling something about how if I set you on fire you'd still cool down. 

I look around me as we stand near the lobby by the restrooms. Whenever I feel a presence near me that differs from Lissa and Forrest, I clench my fist but avoid looking around. The presence disappears every time, even as I feel uneasy. I recognize none of the people who cross through the lobby or pass us by, generally congratulating Lissa to her thanks. The only thing I can count on is Lissa's mockery and Forrest keeping watch on the bathroom door and looking down at his phone. 

_ Mars, I didn’t know you had it in you!  _

_ If you have wondered why I haven't responded, it is because I worry that I will encourage you if I speak, so consider this my silence.  _

A snort from Forrest's direction, which Lissa grins at before continuing.  _ Ah, whatever _ .  _ I mean, you’ve grown that way. I guess I always saw a touch of that within you, but like… holy moly, Mars! That was suave as hell. _

_ It was me trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. I am not a dancer by nature, especially in the hands of a trained professional. _

_ I think she was the one in your hands by the end.  _ Lissa giggles to the point of a near convulsion.  _ And I think she was putty in them too!  _

She gives me far too much credit, but I do not note this, so Forrest adds to her train of thought.  _ I would be a fool to pretend that the kiss was not electrifying. Did you plan that? _

_ I do not  _ plan  _ those sort of things, Forrest _ . I certainly do not wish to tell him his laissez-faire romantic dynamics might have brought more freedom out of me. I do not grant victory easily.

Lissa leaps.  _ Well, that was the suavest thing I’ve ever frickin’ seen in my life!  _

I throw my finger to my lips.  _ Lissa, not so loud! Do you want others to hear you? _

Lissa leans against the wall.  _ Pssh. This is far more important. What even got into you? Cause that’s not the Maribelle I know.  _

_ I said it already. I was feeling the moment.  _

_ Sure, sure. I think you were feeling a lot more than the moment. I think you’re still feeling it.  _

I pinch the bridge of my nose, which I've learned over the years as the universal symbol for  _ shut up,  _ not that Lissa knows the meaning of those two words.  _ I  _ feel like _ you are reading too much into things, Lissa, and I would appreciate it if you stopped.  _

She takes my hand with a forceful yank, compelling me to look at her. I always look downward, as she is five-one, but when I do, I generally feel like the smaller one. Either she is about to let loose an improvised rant about something immaterial or she is about to tell me something that is tricky for her to say but that I need to hear. I doubt I have the luxury of the former this time. Judging by how caught Forrest seems, I definitely expect this to be a moment.

_ Maribelle, I know this. You can’t talk your way out of this. I’ve known you too long to believe I am actually making this up. And you know what? I know what you look like smitten with someone before. And what you look like when you try to hide it.  _

Gods help me, she does. My body laxes and I look down in surrender. Forrest hmms next to me in a way divorced from judgment.

_ Like, I don’t like playing that card, Mar, but you have literally never been able to hide how you feel. It just  _ bursts  _ from you at some point and at this point, it’s  _ hella  _ emanating from you. _

I throw my hands up.  _ And even then? Who’s to say she feels the same way? _

Lissa is speechless. It is a nice change.

_ You’ve observed it yourself, how my romantic persuasions lie, and how I am enamored with Olivia. I cannot imagine she feels as… intense as I do at the moment.  _

_ I'm sorry?  _

I certainly didn't expect Forrest to shut a flip-phone- which even I know to be archaic- so he could chime in to our two-way conversation. The last I saw of him, he was acting as your restroom sentinel. I look at him in surprise, and he apologizes. Still, the shock does not fade, and as each second goes by he looks more like he accidentally intruded on us.

I stand towards him- not just a look, but a full challenging stand.  _ Would you please elaborate? _

Forrest blinks in shock.  _ I'm just… stymied. Have you  _ any  _ idea how  _ ludicrous _ it is to have those words come forth in such an order? Who's to say that she has feelings for you?  _ All of Ylisse _ , Maribelle.  _

I stomp my foot. Forrest has met my challenge with more aplomb than expected.  _ Forrest, it may come as a shock to you, but I have never experienced someone sincerely being attracted to me in my life. I am not Khan Flavia, I am not your aunt, and I am certainly not you. If someone is being kind to me, they are being friendly, not drawn in by beauty. To claim otherwise is, quite frankly, the height of arrogance.  _

Forrest puts his hands up with a smirk that looks a little too impressed.  _ I'll give your personal experience the benefit of the doubt, but Lady Maribelle, please don't expel the idea. It is not above you. _

I don't apologize, but remorse washes over.  _ I'll keep that in mind. Still, I am not capable of seeing it.  _ Shame on me, I suppose.

In response, Lissa can only giggle, to my ever-increasing consternation. It’s the sort of giggle that implies that she knows a secret I don’t. Scratch that- she doesn’t know a secret. She knows the plainly obvious that I have managed to avoid. An eye roll escapes me.  _ Come now, Lissa, now is not the time for jokes. Please just tell me what I've so obviously missed.  _

_ Olivia!  _ She's wheezing. I fear that she may convulse cackling onto the floor before you return. Forrest warns her to calm down, seeing how dark my expression is getting. Others walking through the lobby are beginning to notice her impropriety; usually, I find it charming but at my expense? Certainly not; now I'm just embarrassed in multiple ways. They are all staring at us both, and their eyes scour my heart and judge me undeserving.

Tears start to prick my eyes and my fist clenches, desperately begging for relief of its own pressure.  _ Yes, Olivia was the subject of discussion, and you!  _ My pitch and volume suddenly rise.  _ You, Lissa, are doing a good job at making me feel a fool for bringing her up at all!  _

_ Oh!  _ She straightens up.  _ I didn't mean to make you mad! _ I feel her eyes on my head as I bow, overwhelmed, not wanting to risk showing emotion to the crowd whose eyes are on us. My breath is low and my heart is lower at this reception. Worst of all, I feel the force of sobs barging into my door _. Oh, wait, did I actually upset you? I'm really sorry, Mars. _

_ You just… just couldn't b-be  _ c-c-clear _ with me, c-could you?  _

My bitter weepy accusation makes her jump back. _ Oh. Oh crap, Mars, I'm sorry. I didn't really get how intense this was for you. I, uh…  _ She cranes her neck to look at Forrest, mumbling  _ I did something wrong. I…  _

_ You should help your friend, Lissa. I promise I'll be here. _

_ Okay, I- I'm sorry, boo.  _ She takes my hand and points toward the door. _ Let's get some air, okay? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety sucks the big one, trust me.


	16. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an alternate name for this chapter: the big spiral 
> 
> so be prepared for that

I'm in a fog as she leads me to an elevator that takes us to a rooftop garden that I could see as I entered. It's been ages since I've felt an anxiety attack this powerful on the horizon. Reality feels immaterial, and I should very much like to scream because it feels like so much of my life has led me to the moment where I have fallen for you. There is a timeline and you are not a bystander like Lissa, you are a  _ point _ , and yet she seems to think that it is funny that I have any feelings at all- no, that I wish for reciprocation. Is it that crazy to imagine a world where someone might have feelings back for me? Is it foolish for that to matter to me so much, this fantasy that someone may like me for who I am? Don't say it is; I feel that it is but I couldn't bear it if you confirmed it. 

Perhaps it would be useful to say some of these things, but I do not know where to begin, and that is why I've not spoken since we've reached the rooftop garden; rather, sobbed so quietly that I can only feel them, the burdens in my chest. Lissa is a bit rusty at how she handles my anxiety, but even though she's struggling to get my attention through words or poor shoulder massages, I know that she is trying to. I just can't bring myself to talk when I fear that my vulnerabilities are to be jeered. 

Finally, she resorts to talking. Leaning to my right side so I can hear her, she says in a distant voice  _ I didn’t mean to laugh at you. Like, I wasn’t mocking you for, like,  _ having  _ a crush on Liv. I mean, have you  _ seen  _ her? She’s  _ rad! 

I barely hear my own words,  _ V-very fan-fantastic.  _ Even in this state, she will not get me to sully my speech via slang terms.  _ It was f-f-far too easy to fa-f-f-fall for her.  _ Oh, gods, I can't even speak right, so I clear my throat. _ I’d imagine m-many have to the point where I, I know that I c- _ certainly _ was not invited to the table.  _ My voice unrepentantly jerks in tone and volume when I am upset, and sadly there's naught I can do for that.

She takes a second to think it through to no avail.  _ Wait, so… okay, so… do you think that she doesn’t like you back? _

_ It’s  _ foolish _ to think so. I am not the type of  _ person _ at a state where it is responsible for anyone to take interest in me, nor do I believe that anyone  _ would _ in the first place.  _ O-obviously _ I should be b-b-better at  _ many _ things in my personality if I am going to  _ romantically s-support anyone _  because at this s-state the  _ thing _ I am best at is driving people away with a myriad of unsolved issu- _

She places a hand on my shoulder.  _ Mar, take a breath. A deep one, okay? Don’t spiral on yourself right now.  _ I comply, but am I spiraling, or am I just speaking the truth that I myself would not want to hear?  _ Maribelle, you are not nearly as bad as all that. I promise. No one’s exactly who they wanna be and you totally have every right to be the way you are, but I promise that, like, you are not unlovable. I really mean that.  _

_ I struggle to believe that, but…  _ I take a deep breath.  _ Your words are very kind. V-very…  _ I sniffle, and my voice raises to a higher pitch.  _ Very k-k-kind. Kinder than I de-de-deserve. I just…  _ I choke out a loud sob and continue ducking because I believe that if I do I will melt into the floor and disappear and therefore not have to deal with this catastrophe.  _ I am not sure why you were  _ laughing _ at me so much. Everyone was staring… everyone was  _ staring  _ at us. I am  _ s-so s-sick of them staring _ , Lissa. _

She notices that I am growl-sobbing again with hurt that goes beyond the conversation, but manages to keep it on track rather than letting me dig a thousand holes and bury myself in each one.  _ They weren’t staring at you. They were staring at me. You just happened to be friends with a hyena sometimes. It happens. _

I am at the point of begging, my dying voice at its highest pitch.  _ Then w-why did I make you laugh? There’s nothing  _ funny  _ about this, Lissa! I love her. I love her in a way that I did not even love you, and  _ that _ f-frightens me. _

Lissa slaps her leg.  _ Oh, my gods, that’s… that’s a lot.  _

_ It is serious, Lissa, so v-very serious. Grima’s  _ Truth _ could not be as honest. To find out that it was unrequited… if it is a  _ shock _ , it will  _ poison _ me. I have never been able to accept that someone could have  _ feelings _ for me, because… because they won’t. And even if they do, I will  _ outmatch _ them. And I will  _ smother _ them until they tire of me because I do not know any other way to love.  _

Lissa falls silent in a way that she so rarely does. That is to say, she deigns to think about what she says next. When she thinks, her lips move as though she’s talking but no sounds come out and her lips are far too fast to read as it is. The dawning realization that hits her face and makes her rise in the garden from my feet and looking into the sun blinds me with its power. 

_ There are so many ways, Maribelle, that we just… didn’t and couldn’t communicate. And it’ll… I can’t tell you everything that I think will explain things yet, but… I think I left the impression that the way you treat those you love like that… well, was wrong, because it was wrong for me, and that wasn’t the way I should have done things. I was young, I was dumb, I was inconsiderate, and I forgot how much things like that linger. _

I sigh. It is heavy to address these things sometimes, and I know it is from Lissa, as she so rarely does. Her smile is hardly made of porcelain, but the high one gets from happiness she never wants to descend from, especially as tragedy began to define her story. Can I forgive her? Absolutely. Is there a lot that I am sorry for? Especially sorry. Is it relevant to the subject at hand? Not entirely, but it is not irrelevant in turn. 

All I can say is  _ I wish… I wish I could  _ work things out _. _

_ I think there are things everyone has to work out, but there are also things that some can really appreciate more than others. And I can tell you now, through everything I know about Olivia… your love would be perfect for her, and I know that she would think the same. _

I lean up from my self-imposed exile.  _ Are you so certain, Lissa? _

_ Totally. No one gets past your walls without a little work, and Liv’s a hard worker when she has something she thinks is worth fighting for.  _ With a sneaky smile, she adds  _ I’m just amazed that  _ you _ haven’t seen it. _

_ What haven’t I seen? _

She giggles.  _ Oh my God, Mars, you oblivious lesbian. Like… the constant little touches? The little blushes? The way that she’s so careful about what she says to you? The fact that she knows how to help calm you down, keep you breathing? Or even the fact that she tried to dance with you on two busted legs? For Gods' sake, you asked her out, and she dressed like a literal ancient goddess. You kissed her and I think she actually lost consciousness. Maybe it’s just ‘cause I've been trying to get you two together for months 'cause I wanna do good in the world, but I think it’s obvious that she’s so into you. And you were  _ made  _ for each other. _

That wakes me up. Had I a drink, I'd spit it out with no regard for present company. Olivia, is this true? Forgive me, but it is hard to believe.  _ Perhaps she is being a very good friend and I am unused to it because I am not the beneficiary of kindness too often. It wouldn't be the first time that I derived mixed signals out of platonic kindness.  _

She's learned to roll with the punches regarding my complicated affection towards her when it is factual, not emotional.  _ Look,  _ I'm  _ a good friend being platonically nice, because I love you and you deserve it.  _ Liv  _ is different. Like, she  _ feels  _ different than me to you, right?  _

_ I… do suppose so. I think on some level I was always aware that I was reading things that weren't there into your actions… and with her, there's something… but perhaps she's just a different person than you are and displays friendship differently… yet…  _

_ Oh?  _

_ I knew that she was different when our friendship first developed than she is now… perhaps I was too busy going through my own change to notice the intricacies of hers.  _ I uncurl from my self-inflicted ball, tears drying the instant I get some hope.  _ Yes. That must be it.  _

_ See? I told you. _

I stand up.  _ I must find her.  _

_ Find her? What are you gonna do? _

_ I know not, but I wish to be by her si-  _

Then it hits me. In a panic, I reach for my phone. On the main screen is a notification from you, which I open before I read so I can see all your messages in full. 

_ where did u 2 go?  _ Sticker of a confused panda bear.

_ hello? _

_ u didnt get hurt or anything? r u ok _

_ sorry im just. nervous af _

_ aaaaaaaaaand i think i heard u yelling from the stall i was hiding in _

_ thats not relevant _

_ btw _

_ anyway im worried _

_ can I just say thank FUCK forrest is here or id lost my damn mind _

_ yea were just gonna sit&wait here by the bathrooms 4 u _

_ hmu when ur available so I STOP FKIN WORRYING lmao  _

I blanch.  _ We should probably head back in.  _

_ Did she text you? _

My only response to Lissa is slamming a quick reply to you.  _ So sorry. Was having a moment. Coming to get you. Love you.  _

_ Ha! She didn't message  _ me. Lissa sounds oddly triumphant about this, but no matter. I'm running downstairs faster than I believe that these flats would allow.  _ There were stairs here?  _ I don’t answer, and I honestly don’t find the infrastructure of the building of interest right now. I would like to see you again, Olivia, if only to confirm this to be true. 

You do not look up at me before I shout your name, and Forrest must point us out to you. You lean on your cane to stand, and I offer my hand. You take it and embrace me, beginning to speak. While I could imagine you taking me to task for being drawn away for so long, I instead get  _ A-are you okay now? _

I return the embrace with awkward surprise, endeared as can be.  _ I… I am.  _ I sound downright shocked by… everything, I suppose, and my face tells the tale of a sea of tears, but I am okay, Olivia. I am not completely okay, but I am more okay than you will ever know. 


	17. Inelegance

Lissa and Forrest are a little gratuitous with how often they leave us alone. Oftimes it is one or the other offering some assistance or their presence- generally the younger Mercer sibling who is technically too young for the bar we are in, coasting on a small bout of nepotism to sit by our side. As the three of us sit in its corner, Forrest talks to you- rather, at you- about everything that doesn't matter and I order a spiked iced tea because at this point I need any form of courage, and liquid would do in a pinch. You comment that you've never seen me drink before, and I'm a little amazed that you don't get why. 

At some point, Lissa returns, no longer in a teasing mood after seeing how important you are to me. She stands next to Forrest, who ceases talking to you for a moment. You spin towards me as I watch the two whisper intimately. Their dynamic seems to have changed over the night to something more involved, though whether it is less or more romantic I can’t say. We exchange a look, but I can’t say we come to any conclusions. 

_ Forgive us, Olivia, Maribelle. The two of us have business to attend to. _

Lissa shrugs, carefree.  _ Something like that. We’re gonna go make out, okay?  _ I balk until I remember that Lissa is not a very intimate individual. You have to center your breaths as well to assure yourself that she is not the type to initiate a makeout session. 

I take another sip of tea, relishing the kick even as it is far sharper than I expected. With a graceless swallow:  _ Quite. Both of you enjoy that.  _

_ Now that I know what it is, maybe I shall.  _ Forrest winks at us both and saunters off, taking her hand. Lissa assures us both that we’ll be back later and can text her. You watch them go, then turn back to me. 

_ Y-y’know those, like… movie scenes w-where like… two people are…  _ You look up in the air when I set my tea down and look towards you.  _ Okay, so like… t-those scenes. Like, I j-just got a sense of, like, we’re gonna l-leave these two alone for a-awhile and… hope they d-do something.  _

I hmm in realization as I process your words.  _ I admit I can see that. _

_ S-so… wh-what are th-they ex...pecting us to do?  _

I shake my head because I feel like this would be so much easier for us if we lived in their reality. Lissa told me that she was trying to set us up, but while she meant that as a general thing, I now see how it was live-time, and now I am confident that Forrest is in on it too. I’d imagine they have good intentions. I am not surprised that they saw that I pine for you. Still, I am very much at unease, because nothing is easy. 

_ I’m not sure. Be happy, I suppose. I’d be happy not to be here, but I also know that I would have to inform Father that I am leaving lest he pester me, so I suppose I am stuck for now.   _ The drink starts to hit me already, enough that I would use it as an excuse for honesty.  _ I suppose they forgot the part where my father was a living, breathing hell beast and I can’t help but feel his eyes on the corner of every room. Might be a little bit of an inconvenience, though there are a lot of things that I find to be in the way.  _

_ I-in the way? _

I take another sip.  _ I think so. I believe they meant to leave us alone because they think that nothing would be easier than a romantic rendezvous.  _

You gulp, looking down as you blush.  _ O-oh. I can… I-I can s-see that.  _ As I set my drink down, you sigh.  _ Yeah, I think y-you got the r-right idea. I c-could… cut stone in h-half w-with my nerves…  _ You turn to the bartender and dig out your ID from your wallet, ordering some bourbon. 

_ Harder stuff than I got. Bottoms up, I suppose.  _

_ O-once he makes it. _

_ Gods damn it.  _

You flinch. I so rarely swear, but you’ve noticed that I have been in a sour mood since I returned from my episode.  _ Mari, wh-what’s wrong? I… ever since you’ve come back… y-you’ve seemed angry.  _

I sigh.  _ General run-of-the-mill anxiety. Though I daresay that I cannot be blamed. This is no venue for a first date unless you are an idiotic lesbian who has never been on a date proper in her life. I apologize, Olivia, I truly should have thought before I conflated that with this.  _

You reach across the table for my hand.  _ You’re doing fine, Maribelle. I promise. I’ve been enjoying myself a lot, a-and you…  _ You blush.  _ You look beautiful. _

I blush in kind, completely undignified.  _ Thank you. As do you, as I expected.  _

Your drink arrives. You take it into your hands, the liquid mahogany of the bourbon blending beautifully into the glossy gold painted into your nails. Now _ we can say bottoms up. _

_ Indeed. Bottoms up, my dearest. _

We drink; though your drink is harder, you get a gratuitous sip down with nary a huff. I hum, genuinely impressed, and your eyes widen.  _ I, uh… the Feroxi drinking age is 18, and… hard liquor is their thing, so even before here, I got, uhm… training.  _

_ I didn't mean to make you think I was judging you, darling. I am honestly impressed.  _

You look down, surprised.  _ I, uhm… thank you. I'm really surprised with… not you being so good, cause you're really nice.  _ I beam like a sucker.  _ I just… a lot of people laugh at those things. The things like… they think I drink too much. Or that I'm too scandalous. And like… that I'm a troublemaker.  _ I set my drink down and listen, a burning sensation in my gut. You are talking with more confidence, and it stirs something within me.  _ Like… it's cause I dance and they think… I'm just a dancer. A pair of hips that are the best thing they've seen. And I'm not that easy, you know. I'm anxious and shy and I pressure myself a lot to try new things and like, I do things Feroxi do, like, I'm open around friends, I swear a lot, I know how to drink, you know… and I like sex. Most people do.  _

_ Tell me about it.  _ I knock a drink back. It's cute when I act like I know what I'm doing. The most I know about sex is how badly I would like to sleep with you, and fantasies hardly count towards experience.

_ And… I guess if I had my way, I'd take more of that… dancer side of me and… make it more of me. I feel like…  _ You sadly stare at your drink.  _ Things would make more sense.  _

I firmly set down my drink before I take a sip.  _ Perhaps, my dear, that might be. But have you ever realized that the things about you that seem graceless are actually quite beautiful?  _

_ There's no way, Mari. I think you're just drunk.  _

_ Nonsense. I've only had a single drink.  _

_ Carrion Isle iced teas are pretty potent. There's like, four spirits in it.  _

_...but it said iced tea in its name. I figured that even spiked that it would be mild and I was just being a baby.  _ You shake your head sympathetically and I glare at my glass.  _ Traitor.  _ I set it down in disappointment.  _ Then, fine. I am inebriated. Yet my point still stands. _

_ I forgot your point if you wanna be honest.  _

_ It's about… how it pains me to hear you talk about personality traits that I adore so much as flaws. Not because I adore them, but because you should too. I…  _ I sigh.  _ I know it's hard to believe, Olivia, especially from a would-be suitor who is more sloshed than she would like. But you are worthy of your own love, and I would mean that sober as much as drunk.  _

You take my hand.  _ Mari, like… you keep saying things like… you're my suitor, and… you keep complimenting me and saying that I'm beautiful, and you…  _ You blush furiously.  _ You k-kissed me after the d-dance, and like… I didn't wanna get too excited cause you didn't really specify what kind of date it was, but… am I reading into things or… should I be seeing signs?  _

I bury my face in my free hand. Is this how Lissa felt when she called me an oblivious lesbian? 

_ I'm sorry! I mean, like… I'm not trying to challenge you or anything, but… I think we gotta  _ say,  _ you know,  _ everything we didn't really put into words.

I shake my head. I shake my head because if you knew the intensity of my feelings… if you knew what my definition of love was… if you knew the extent of the web of cruelty my father has caught me in… if you knew how I am paranoid that he hears me even now, trying to spite me, and how badly I want to get away from Themis save for how attached to you I am… 

_ Olivia… I'm not exactly as uncomplicated as I try to portray.  _

_ Are you as easy as a dancer?  _ You giggle-snort after you use your own words back at me. I blush, but I am loving, and my skin heats up as I place my free hand longingly on your bare knee. 

_ Ask me again when we leave. Then I shall tell you everything. _

_ When we leave?  _

I point above me.

_ You just pointed above you. What do you mean? _

_ I mean that  _ he's  _ listening, for Gods' sake.  _ That  _ is why I regret making this a date. I just couldn't let another second pass me by. And…  _ I sigh.  _ I just hate him so much and… all he does to me. Olivia, you don't even know how emotionally terrorizing he is, and… leading you into his den is the worst decision I've ever made. I'm so sorry, darling, I could have done so much better…  _ You release my hand, and I blow my nose into a nearby napkin while using the edges to dab on my eyes. Then, I take a drink, clasping the cup in my hand, my other still on your knee.

_ We're not in his den, Maribelle. _

_ I'm always in his den. I'm  _ always  _ in his  _ fucking _ den.  _ I slam my empty glass onto the counter so sharply that you jolt and yelp. I apologize and huff at the sky. Gods, imagine being on a date with  _ me _ .  _ Olivia, if I ever order this wretched drink again, remove my vocal cords.  _

_ You're… okay, then. Let me… _

I watch you, the world faded around you. You're thinking, but unlike me, it's not aloud. It's in your head. How odd that you would have more restraint than me, but I suppose it's only fitting that I lose my desirable qualities when I am close to you. I would not be Maribelle if I didn't sabotage myself, if I didn't invite you to the den of my own personal Grima only to finally complete my long and dramatic fall into your arms.

_ Maribelle? _

I blink. You are smiling in a way that says that I'm okay, that nothing's going to hurt me.

_ Can you come with me for a moment? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carrion Isle Iced Tea is basically Long Island Iced Tea. Me being the nondrinker I am, I expected it to be taller because it says long island and I am an idjit.


	18. Catharsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "why is this rated m maeve"

_ Okay. Get in, stay to the inner corner, okay?  _ You look up.  _ The right one. _

I'm not sure how on Earth we got to the point of amateur espionage from where we were naught a minute ago, but I do as I'm told. As I walk, you walk just to my left until I find my place, resting between the two maple wooden bars and watching you take your spot with a shaky breath and excited giggle, looking at me like you cannot believe what is going on. I stifle a laugh at your expression because I'm also quite apprehensive. The elevator doors close and we start to go up. 

_ Okay, so, I used to pull this trick back when I was a freshman.  _

With that, you hit a button that stops us about three and a half floors in. The elevator grinds to a halt and leaves us standing in corners opposite each other feeling some sort of tension. You take a deep breath and try to smile, but you are shaky. 

_ L-look, honey… I k-know this was probably, uhm… extra. B-but I know you were, like, scared that he was watching, but no camera would ever pick up the corner of the elevator that well unless you have, like, fifty of them.  _ You grimace as if it brings back a bad memory.

_ I can't imagine how you'd have known  _ that _ , of all things.  _ I'm whispering like I'm still petrified of doing something, if not sure what.

_ Uh, h-hey! Wait, that wasn't sarcastic. A-anyway! Look, i-if y-you… didn't want to say anything out there, then y-you can here, okay? Keep whispering and I'm the only one who has to hear it.  _ You scratch behind your ears, cane firmly hooked on the furthermost bar.  _ Th-that's why I called you, uhm, h-honey, because I didn't want to s-say your name. Uhm, n-n-not that I wouldn't have anyways! I just… n-now would be an odd time to, u-under most c-circumstances.  _

I let you finish, both of us flustered, before I respond. 

_ This is indescribably sweet, darling, but…  _ With a smile at once weak, impish, and sweet, I beckon you over, and you reach my side.  _ Part of it was fear that my father would find out, b-but… Part of it was just…  _ My words fall apart the more emotionally charged I am.  _ Just… I was scared to say it at all. Because no matter what, it will hurt, but… _

You look at me with expectancy. 

_ You did all this for me. I can't let that go to waste. _

I grab your shoulder as I speak, for force and courage.  _ What you were implying was… it was true, Olivia. I'm not surprised that you gathered that I was attracted to you. Yet… I'm under this… fear that… well, sometimes I am…  _

I  _ am _ buying time to think, but how can I when the words lead me on a path that I am not anticipating? No matter, I must stop dawdling. 

_ There are often times where I am... affectionate and accommodating to a degree that is… concerning for the other party. Perhaps because I make things too easy for them. I am transparent in how I appreciate them, and it can be disquieting. I have… hampered many important relationships that way.  _

And yet my mind can only submit one name- Lissa. 

Lissa, a beacon of sunshine in my life. Lissa, my truest and oldest friend from my childhood days. Lissa, who stood up for me even when others backed away out of disgust or concern. Lissa, who still loves me and considers me amazing yet, out of a sense of defense, has kept a barrier, a plexiglass wall between us, for, yes, I am too clingy, I do dote too much, I am too forgiving, I act too much better than I am, and I wanted nothing more than to express the love and gratitude for her kindness, that I have for her, and yet that was wrong, and no matter what she says that is a fault inherent to me, and there are tears in my eyes and a choke in my voice, because I am so grateful for you, Olivia, and all I can choke out is my final question,  _ is that okay?  _ before jagged sobs wreck my body because so badly, I want that to be okay with someone.

_ O-of course it is, Maribelle!  _ You see me huddled into the elevator walls and embrace me more freely than I’ve seen you do anything, tears scraping the edge of your face.

_ I hope you’re not…  _ I try to pull myself together. Silly me, as though that does not make me sob again.  _ C-crying on my behalf. I do not deserve your tears over my weaknesses. _

_ D-d-don’t speak like that! Of course, you do, honey. It's just… i-i-it’s so hard to see you… feel this way.  _

_ Feel what way? _

_ Like… I don’t know. Like you’re s-sorry… that you're doing something wrong to me.  _

And that is where I fall silent. 

I should be sorry, Olivia. I have hurt those I love with my selfish desire to impart a mountain of affection. Formerly, I used to think it selfless, a desire to give those what my upbringing lacked until I realized that I was thrusting a gift on those who did not want it. I should know better- perhaps had I never met you, I would stay behind shields of fire and venom and the people I pass would not change me, or I them. I am very sorry for hurting Lissa, and I cannot see how those qualities are ones you find good. 

_ Olivia…  _

I'm sorry, but it’s the only way I know how to love. 

_ Olivia, it's you.  _

Your eyes widen and you gasp in a way that threatens tears. I just nod, as this is my moment.

_ I love you. _

You release me and nearly kneel down in shock, pointing at yourself. You know that those three words took a lot for me to say. I've often told you that I love you, true, and you've gathered the courage to return it with a shy smile (and were considerate enough to retroactively tell me that you've loved me for awhile). Yet those were, I know, the bond of sisterhood. Of close friends. Of bosom buddies. That is not how I meant it, and you know it- the  _ in  _ is unsaid yet implied, in my eyes, in my hands, in my very being.

_ You too? O-o-oh my Gods.  _ You grab my shoulder, slumping in relief.  _ I'm gonna pass out. Holy crap.  _

_ You mean…  _ I look at you, then at the sky.  _...it would have been that easy?  _ I look back at you.  _ Gods skin me alive, I was bloody petrified!  _

You giggle.  _ I would have confessed something, I think. That's what Forrest was texting me in the bathroom, like,  _ Olivia. Have faith in her affections.

_ I'd just confessed to him! The bastard was playing with a stacked deck!  _

_ I mean, I-I think we needed that. _ You scratch the back of your neck shyly.  _ S-so, like… the e-elevator was because I needed c-courage to f-finally… you know, c-cross the line and s-say it, but you beat me to it, thank Naga. _

_ Trust me, Olivia, were I not inebriated it would have been you to confess it. _

_ Really? But I-I'd have been so limp! I'm not good at actually confessing!  _

_ Me either!  _

You close your eyes, amusement on your visage.  _ We're hopeless, aren't we? _

A few seconds' silence sees both of our faces contort before a powerful shared laugh. Years of voice training goes out the window as I guffaw like an easily amused uncle, and you cackle alongside me like the doting aunt that just finds us precious. After we die down, I clear my throat and return to a whisper.  _ I apologize, Olivia, that was improper. _

You shrug, a haze over your eyes.  _ That's okay. It was cute.  _

I blush.  _ Stop it. It was not. _

_ Cutie.  _

_ Olivia, by the gods…  _ I do not finish my thought. I do not think I need to. Instead, I lean into your neck, looking up at you- consider it a need to be the less dominant force next to the one I am attracted to. Olivia, I am fairly certain that I am helpless right about now and I would appreciate it if you did not help me.

_ You truly do not mind that I love you?  _ I whisper naturally, and the words come out as steam. 

_ Of course, I don't, honey.  _ I beam at all five of your words, especially the last.  _ I thought even if we, like… got together it would take time to commit to each other and all. _

_ I wouldn't waste a second, Olivia. I want so dearly to be yours. To advance in life with you. That's why I was scared because… I am in love, and I fear that that is saying too much to start with.  _

You wipe tears off my face.  _ Honey, no one is as good to me as you. I've missed the way you've treated me before I met you. Ever since you met me you just… cared so much about a stranger. You're so amazing, a-and you g-go through so much a-and just… s-so gorgeous in th-the way you… you are, and you… love  _ me…  _ the way that I love you…  _

You stop as we stare at each other, frightened laughter on your lips, and harried explanations in my eyes. The stories I could tell, the promises I could make, the reality that is mine that I could share… yet you believe them all before I can tell them, and though you are scared, you are- as you yourself would say- living for it. 

I realize that you are once more embracing me, but you are a lot more tender than before. Suddenly, I am quite perked, and something about the way you meet my eyes tells me the same thing.

_ This is tight quarters but… can I kiss you, Mari?  _

You meet my eyes and wait for me to nod. Then, you take my lips into yours. 

This is the first kiss in my life that has mattered, so I cede control to you. You kiss me intimately, and in your arms, I feel as though I am riding a wave as your lips teach me how to swim. I place a hand on your chest and the other beneath the roots of your cloudy pink ponytail, gently, reverently. Of course, it was to be you, Olivia. Why did I fear the wait for someone like you to appear would be fruitless? I know not, but I am happy that it has happened. 

A shift happens in me. I am just realizing what I am doing, and my heart switches to a higher gear. Slipping off my flats to make myself shorter, I place the side of my foot on your back while I grasp your neck with ferocity. You  _ will  _ see, Olivia, just how much I worship you. 

You gasp at my audacity, your hands clutching my thighs out of desperation. You did want to keep saying something, but always let it go to get lost in me. We are gauche lovers, though perhaps this is just us letting off steam that built until the moment we finally kissed, finally tied together the strings dangling on our arms.

Your arms keep erring towards the back of my corset, then as if considering, your hands reach its ties.  _ Just remember to put it back when you're done.  _ You focus so hard on untying it that you stop kissing me, swearing at the ties as you undo them. Eventually, you do, and my corset falls at my foot, exposing my midriff. You lose a breath or two, resting your hand gently on my exposed stomach and muttering about how gorgeous I am. I pull you closer to me, inviting your most merciless kisses as your hands rest on the small of my back. We fight for domination- you pushing me against the wall, me pushing you against me- but I would spill into your arms and do whatever you asked of me were I not so certain that you'd do the same. 

I break from your lips and kiss your neck sweetly. You swear and say my name, hips bucking against my waist and threatening to hinder my tuck job. I do so love how you say it, a cocktail of surprise, alarm, desire, longing. Am I not going deep enough? I admit that were we in a different hotel's elevator, we likely would never make it to any room we share. Still, there's only so much we should do here, but that which we can do, I would love to. Though you get your revenge by moving your hands down to my own buttocks and grabbing two handfuls. 

_ Hhh! In, indecent!  _ Though I cannot hide how my breath hitches in my throat. 

You let go.  _ I can stop if you want!  _

Breathless:  _ I'd rather you didn't. _

With a naughty, adorable cackle, you place them back, relishing in how I gasp despite anticipating it.  _ Yeah, we're a little past decent, you know, babe?  _ Your voice is disarmingly husky, and this bold side of you is so alluring, a new dimension I'm privy to. I want them all. I want all of you.

_ You're right. How silly of me.  _ Then I kiss your neck again just beneath your scar, nearly hard enough to leave a mark. Though I would love to show the world how much I love you, I leave it a mystery. 

I slowly start to trace my way down your chest. You moan my name again and the start of a thought-  _ I, I-I, what are y-you do _ \- but it dies beneath another disarmed moan as you move your hands to my bare waist, pressing closer, daring my arousal on this elevator, this secret spot away from the unstoppable gaze of my father, where I can just kiss you and love you and make you choke out my name until  _ I  _ am the mess. 

Then the elevator turns back on. I let you go and grab my corset, and you blink.  _ They figured out an elevator was stopped. _

_ Oh, gods…  _ I clumsily tie it together to place on while also slipping my flats back on.  _ Have we been found out?  _

_ We? Probably not. They'll know I was involved because the camera caught me, but, eh. For all they know I'm straight-  _ and you giggle as though this is a situation that warrants giggles.

_ You'll get in trouble!  _

_ I don't think I'm ever going to come back here. If they think I'm a slut, whatever. Not like they're the first.  _

I don't know how to argue with that in a way that you will not argue back with, so I start anew.  _ I, uh… I enjoyed that.  _

_ Oh!  _ Your tinkling laugh is naughty.  _ Oh, that’s really good!  _ You end the rendezvous by pressing an elevator number.  _ We gotta do this again, sometime. _

_ Preferably not in an elevator. _

You hold a finger to your chin as we continue to pass floors.  _ I don't know. Could always be an elevator.  _

_ My, but you are a bold one, Olivia!  _ I shake my head, but I can't act like the fear of getting caught didn't heighten my libido. Preferably my already-towering hormones would allow me to take it to a place where the watchful eye would not be trained on me. You walk to your cane and remind me to let you walk me out, and I just smile.

_ I can't believe I just did that, Olivia.  _

_ Oh, I totally can. You got a rebel's heart. _

I look at you in shock, but I can't very well argue when words fail me. You suddenly remember to push a button with a gasp. The elevator comes to a halt at the ninth floor and you walk me out, shielding me from any cameras. I follow your commands to duck inside a doorway as you walk without me. When you beckon me over, I'm more relieved than I expected, as I missed your body heat. I'm not sure how effective this all was, but I appreciate that you put in the effort for me.

I gesture to the window as I see the start of the sunset. You follow my eyes to the ombre of purples and reds and oranges that grace the best view of Themis that I ever saw- the towers we are within halting before the river that divides us from Plegia. I get lost for some time before I feel your arm wrap around my waist, taking my hand. Then, I am here, and I don't mind. For once, I am not witnessing something. I am a part of something.

After a minute;  _ W-we should find a bathroom… _

Ah.  _ Perhaps so  We must look like alley cats in dresses.  _

_ I feel like a pig in shit.  _ Though the phrase sounds disparaging to yourself, you smile as you say it, a smile blissful enough to go unchallenged. 

Thankfully, a bathroom is nearby. We duck in together so we may catch our breath, though I hope our adventure would not continue in the stalls. We stand in front of the mirror, you reapplying lipstick and me trying to fit my corset correctly until you help me yourself. My breath still hasn't returned by the time we look presentable, and both of us still have an air of fresh-makeout-session on us. It's beautiful in a way that I can't quite quantify.

_ Olivia? _

You nod as I whisper your name, bowing from exhaustion.  _ I love you, Olivia. I truly do.  _

You close your eyes with a smile.  _ I l-love you too, Maribelle. So much.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the end of this arc. The prologue will be two chapters- long and short- but I genuinely cannot really like divide the first chapter up properly so um... enjoy 7k words i guess. then... goddamn i wanna write in this canon i made forever fuck idk maybe i will come up with a whole third arc


	19. Totality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who wants a 3.5k word chapter cause i cannot split it up and apparently i need to be more uneven in chapters than fuckin au revoir last year

When we return to base level, the first familiar face we see is Forrest, waiting for us in the lobby. I'm surprised Lissa is not with him, but Forrest explains that she's reapplying makeup. I'm not in a state where I feel the need to point out that she wore none going in, and that she doesn't like wearing the stuff if she can avoid it.

With a knowing smile, he asks if he can readjust my corset. I sigh, not knowing how to keep a secret, and allow him to. As he adjusts the ties properly, he looks at you.  _ I'm going to take a guess. Elevator trick?  _

You point at him.  _ That's none of your business!  _ Your paltry defense is undercut by me stifling laughter. You turn your ire at me.  _ And  _ you,  _ Maribelle, need to get better at bluffing.  _

I shrug.  _ I'm an honest drunk. It is generally refreshing, to be honest.  _ I feel the need to poke your body through the sheer.  _ Gorgeous.  _

_ Th-that's  _ not… c-completely  _ working!  _

_ Your blush says that it is. _

Forrest chuckles.  _ I do so love the elevator trick.  _ You look at him with faux outrage and familiar exasperation.  _ I  _ am  _ charmed to hear it. I'm very happy for the new couple. Though I should have known leaving you two at the bar wasn't the best idea.  _

I scoff.  _ That certainly wasn't planned, was it?  _ Forrest shakes his head with a guilty shrug. I turn to you.  _ Has he always been a damnable trickster? Bloody Naga. Tell him he can shove his tricks directly up his arse.  _ I look back at Forrest. I try to raise my volume and instead scream.  _ Though I'm sure you heard me! I can mime you an example, should you be confused. I'm  _ very  _ frisky tonight. _

Forrest is wheezing laughter.  _ I- I'm fine, d-darling! _

_ Carrion Isle Iced Teas have  _ four _ spirits in them!  _ Helpfully, I hold up four fingers. _ Did you know that?  _ I  _ certainly didn't!  _

You just giggle.  _ You're the biggest lightweight I've ever seen. I feel bad, like, you're not supposed to kiss someone drunker than you. _

_ My dearest, I am fairly certain I was the one taking advantage of you. Though I will cede that if you take me home soon, I will do my best to sleep it off so you may take me without guilt.  _

Forrest giggles psychotically as you blanch.  _ My, how things have changed in a fortnight. _

Not looking at him:  _ This feeling isn't something new, Forrest. I've been attracted to her sexually for quite some time now. _

_Oh my goodness!_ You stare at the ceiling. _And there I was in my short shorts and tank tops and, ugh,_ _I totally had no idea-_

_ Of course, you didn't, Olivia. Nor did I about the opposite, well, until a few moments ago. Then you made it quite clear.  _

You throw your hands up.  _ That shit was repressed for  _ months,  _ Mari. I had no clue you'd let me, for one thing.   _

_ We're two dense individuals, Olivia. Why do you think that our two best friends spent upwards of four digits trying to set us up? I'd imagine dealing with us dancing around each other, if you'll pardon the pun, was agonizing. As well as them pretending to date as a paltry cover; pardon my frankness, but I've seen more romantic chemistry between two mannequins than you two.  _

I appear to have actually wounded Forrest, but he doesn't let it show too much.  _ My, you don't hold back. It's honestly refreshing. _

_ It's honestly  _ annoying.  _ You don't have to pretend, Forrest. I've resigned myself to such a fate. _

_ I've dealt with a lot of packaged pleasantries in my life. You're a very straightforward woman, Maribelle, and I appreciate it.  _

I only realize I've been pacing when that stops me.  _...do you mean that?  _

Forrest looks at me with infinite wisdom that once more drops my heart.  _ Truly, Maribelle. Why would I try to set you up with Olivia if I didn't think you were good? _

You balk.  _ Wait, you were actually trying to set us up?!  _

All three of us jolt at Lissa's return, the click-clack of her shoes heralding her sprint. I transition my little terrified gallop into a wave.  _ Have you reapplied your makeup correctly?  _

Lissa glares at Forrest.  _ Bitch, I thought you knew me.  _ Forrest shrugs with a smile that, if I didn't know better, I'd swear was a surrender. 

Lissa faces us both with a warning glance.  _ Look, we don't have much time. I'm sorry, I'm totally gonna freak you out. Hotel went over the tapes.  _

I stomp my foot.  _ They  _ what?!

_ They told my brother and they're stressing too much. My brother's trying to calm them down but they're not having it. Especially at a political fundraiser. For some reason. _

_ S-so they caught me.  _

I expect you to look horrified, Olivia, but while I sense a twinge of terror, it's locked away by a stony look in your eye. Lissa is almost afraid to respond, but she does.  _ Yeah. It was just you for sure, Liv, as well as some other figure, but since I'm not an idiot I know it's  _ her _ , so be on your guard. This could get nasty. _

I tend to numb myself before I know that I will experience pain, so I just nod stiffly. Contrary to me, you crack your knuckles and the muscles in your neck.  _ Oh my God, are you gonna beat them up?  _ Lissa pulls at your arm.

_ L-look.  _ Your nerves are showing in the shake of your bones and stutter in your voice, but the fire in your eyes shows your strength.  _ Th-this is… please just… be serious. Okay? I just… I'm gonna t-try my best to diffuse this.  _

Forrest puts his hand up.  _ Olivia, there are four of us here. Please don't do anything reckless, okay? We're here to support you. _

You nod subtly. You're so terrified that I can feel you shaking from here. I take your hand for a moment and stroke your knuckle. Then, I take your cheek with my other hand and gently kiss your lips. You return it. It goes by too quickly. 

_ Thank you, Olivia. I'm here for you.  _

_ I know.  _

The hotel staff are heard before they are seen. Just how many people staff the cameras? By the sounds of their footsteps, the entire Ylissean cavalry. We face the sound and notice a few people in security and hotel uniforms, a few suited men who cannot pretend they are too chaste for this, a beleaguered-looking Chrom who files in with absolutely zero patience for the proceeding, and- 

_ Blast. Blast my damned skull open.  _

Dennis Gleason VII walks within the men with a very special interest in the proceeding. While the others look at you, standing blankly in the center of the lobby with hands grabbing your cane- aside from Chrom openly asking if we really need this many people- Father looks directly at me with a smile so room temperature that I want to throw up in his cretinous bigoted upper-crusty mug the more I drink it in. 

_ Excuse me, ma'am?  _ A security officer points at you, and you nod.  _ You're part of the audience for the rally, correct?  _ You nod again.  _ Can you tell us your name? _

You swallow.  _ O-Olivia.  _

A silver-haired man in a jacket and tuxedo taps a folder he's carrying.  _ Yes, and your last name, sweetie. Last name.  _

I want to punch him already, but Lissa grabs my arm. In a whisper:  _ Okay, but I will only tolerate that from him thrice. Then I will start to throw these hands at him. _

You clear your throat.  _ Plume. Olivia Plume. _

Lissa motions downward.  _ I just don't want you to get in trouble.  _

The manager flips open his folder, though the whole lobby knows the outcome. Chrom throws a hand up.  _ Come on, there's no way this is necessary. _

I seethe.  _ I do not honestly care if I get in trouble.  _

_ Maribelle.  _ It's Forrest's turn.  _ Just make it past this event, and you can leave for home.  _ That alone makes me steel myself with a huff. 

_ Look at that! I certainly do not have an Olivia Plume in my guest list!  _ The manager shuts the folder.

_ Y-yeah. That’s c-cause I w-was here f-for the r-rally. _

The manager folds his arms.  _ There's no need for your attitude. _

Forrest groans at me.  _ I never thought I'd meet a man more dramatic than I.  _

_ Pfft. Me either, if I'm honest.  _ Lissa elbows me, but Forrest just titters. 

One of the security guards jumps in.  _ Ma'am, the long story short is that our security footage caught you doing something suspicious in the elevators. We'd like a confession from you about what that was, and then we can proceed from there.  _

You sigh, the kind of sigh that is about to sacrifice a bit of her dignity.  _ I, uh… I wasn't d-doing anything violent. I, uh…  _ You turn beet red. 

The manager puts a hand up.  _ My dear, you do realize how suspicious it would look for you to stop an elevator cold and crawl off to the corner as you did?  _ That's three signs of disrespect. Lissa is the only reason I am not taking your cane and bashing his eyes from their sockets.

_ I m-mean… it was…  _ You're blushing again.  _ I-I was just, uhm… b-being a d-dumb kid. Nothing l-like, hurting people. _

_ Then what  _ were  _ you doing? _

_ I…  _ Your eyes are screwed shut.  _ I was… f-fooling a-around.  _

_ Fooling around? _

You look at Forrest with a distant plead, the calling of a vow you appear to have made far before. He nods.  _ Y-yes. I'm s-so sorry. _

The manager narrows his eyes.  _ How, exactly?  _

Oh, my Gods, it is the exact same thing that my father does to me- dances around the point until the other party has humiliated themselves making it.  _ Just stop it,  _ I plead. Only my father looks towards me, but I do not return his venomous gaze, instead staring at the floor. 

Lissa is the one to speak up.  _ You know damn well what she meant, you ignorant jerk! You don't need to slut-shame her!  _

There are three box shapes per tile, Xs through them all.

Father feels the need to interject. _Foolishly,_ _I expected better from_ you. _Maribelle, the company you keep is disappointing._

I clench my fist to block him out.  _ The colors in each tile are red, green, blue. _ My whisper is breathless. _ Red, then green, then blue.  _

Lissa stomps her foot.  _ What do you mean, from  _ her _? _

_ P-please, stop this.  _ You don't specify  _ this.  _ I don't know if you can. 

_ The largest ring is red…  _ I clutch my pounding head. _ The middle is green. The smallest is blue.  _

_ She was with me!  _

Forrest is the loudest I've ever heard him, though perhaps it's distorted because everyone is shocked into silence in turn. He stands with a hand in the air with a stance befitting the kind of lawyer I'd seen in media and not in person. Dramatic to the end, Forrest. 

Chrom is the one to speak.  _ What do you mean, with  _ you _ , Mr. Foleo?  _

Forrest visibly shakes something invisible off.  _ If you must know, Olivia and I briefly dated in college and have been friends since. I took the risk and invited her to the ball with me. Things were reawakened between us, and it led to our indecent acts in the elevator. Childish and hormonal, yes, and I apologize to Representative Mercer sincerely for the trouble.  _

_ I accept, Forrest. However, to end all of this…  _ This is a potent silence. In between two words, I believe that Chrom would want nothing more than for everything to end- the accusations, the argument, and possibly would reverse ever deciding to rub elbows and kiss the babies of the entitled wealthy.  _ This  _ hubbub _ , I would ask that you and Olivia calmly leave the premises.  _

The manager balks with a graceless squawk to put vultures to shame.  _ Just like that, Representative Mercer? _

I step in. Finally, I can be of use.  _ In my experience studying law, there is nothing illegal about what does not even appear to amount to indecent exposure.  _

Father smiles with razor teeth.  _ How would you know that? _

I think fast before others notice my dumb shock.  _ Her dress and his clothes are still attached. As someone who grows dizzy just thinking of how skinti- fuck, I uh…  _ Damned hormones. I must recover fast.  _ I'm reminded of the wet suits you must wear while surfing. Using that principle, there is no way she could have redressed in it so impeccably were it removed entirely, nor could she have removed it unless the elevator was out of service for a good half-hour. In which case, the only people kicked out of the hotel should be your maintenance crew. Therefore, I wager that nothing criminally inappropriate did happen, and if you were to accuse Olivia of a crime, all that would propel you is your bias.  _ I'm not sure how much of that was just rambling drunkenness, but none can say I didn't try. 

The others give me an impressed stare, even Father, though he looks unnerved for the first time in his life. Lissa points at the manager.  _ Boom! Lawyered!  _

The manager stammers before settling with  _ Y-you can't be serious. _

_ This is my rally, sir.  _

_ And this is  _ my  _ hotel that she rudely disrespected!  _

Forrest nearly ruins his curls, so stressfully does he grab his hair.  _ You mean  _ us,  _ sir.  _

Father shakes his head.  _ Yes, sadly she did drag you down to her level. _

I believe that everyone who matters is staring at him in a mixture of horror and disgust save for you, who is silently crying in shame while standing tall as if you were always prepared to face this for my sake. 

So I lean up, just numb enough to tell him off. 

_ Olivia? She's dragging us down to her level? How typical of you, Father, to condemn anyone you find beneath you. Olivia is a dear friend to all three of us standing near her side.  _

_ I see little more than a flailing harlot, Dennis! Your defense is born out of something akin to how you kissed her after your dance. Which I did see, for the record. I am many things but I am not negligent. _

_ Don't call her Dennis!  _ You're _ Dennis!  _ You're angry to the point where it consumes you as you shout over him, but I am also beyond helping you at this point having already been lost myself. The manager shouts in kind, and the security officers look poised to defend the rich against the lack of threat.

_ At ease!  _ Chrom orders with militant authority that showcases a decade as a prodigy soldier.

I stare in aghast rage.  _ Dennis?  _ Dennis?  _ Are you honestly going to pull this now?  _ I throw my hands up and look at the staff.  _ Bloody unbelievable. Does he think he's just going to walk away from this with no consequence? And are you  _ honestly _ going to let him! _

_ You're being irrational, young man!  _ Father swerves towards Chrom.  _ I do not like making a scene, Representative Mercer, but I have spent a lifetime raising this boy and I can tell when he is lying, and that shows me that the whole truth-  _

_ Enough!  _

Chrom roars loudly enough to silence everyone near him, us included. The only audible sound is your heavy breathing.

_ At this point, the argument has lost all dignity and meaning. Olivia, Forrest, I'd like you to leave the hotel. And if a single hotel staff member tries to have you arrested, I promise that I will not stand for it. As Maribelle said and, no doubt, Mr. Gleason could attest, there is nothing illegal about playing footsie in an elevator. No matter who he believes it was with- man, woman, or his own child. As for you, Mr. Gleason, we were seconds away from ending this scenario until you decided to flagrantly and, for my money, disgustingly prolong it by attacking all of the youth around, including your own adult daughter. I firmly request that you leave as well. I'm sure your limo will pick you up. _

Father looks surprised, his face twisted into a spiteful grin because he always refuses to admit defeat.  _ Am I to be your scapegoat for your disgustingly naive diversity campaign? _

_ Fuck off, you old stodge!  _ All could guess who that yell came from.  _ Chrom isn't like that. _

_ All I see is the latest in a line of once-allies that I thought to be better than this.  _

Chrom narrows his eyes, set to shake all of Ylisse.  _ That's all I see as well. _ He points to the door with flair.  _ Get out of my sight.  _

Father closes his eyes. Then, with a beleaguered sigh:  _ So be it.  _ Then, facing me:  _ We  _ will  _ talk about this at work on Monday. Don't think I've forgotten about how you snuck into this ball without telling me so you could create, I suppose, precious memories with your girlfriend. _

I look at him with spite to hide my terror, walking near to you out of a need for the courage that teems through an unapologetic coupling. _ I promise to wake up to her sight every morning until then. Now, please fuck off.  _

Father takes his leave. Internally, I fantasize about the idea of never seeing him again. I realize that the paranoia of him seeing me at every turn was just that- paranoia, his need to haunt me everywhere. Damn. Damn every damnable thing. 

Externally, I look at Chrom and I believe I apologize about everything. Exhausted, he forgives me. I take your arm, not sure who holds who up as we lean against each other like wounded soldiers.  _ I should very much like to go now if this is all over.  _

Chrom closes his eyes.  _ Just… get some rest, Maribelle. Forrest, Olivia, you too. _

Lissa clears her throat.  _ I, uhm… I need to go with them. _

_ All right. Lissa, you as well. _

Without another word or sign of resistance, the four of us leave, with Lissa detouring to hug her brother, insisting that they love each other. She rejoins us by the time we leave through the doors of the lobby that I walked in through.

_ I'll get my car.  _ With that, Forrest signals for a valet. I believe at this point, all four of us are some level of dead inside.

_ Is… is t-this w-what you've d-dealt with for s-so long, Mari?  _ Your voice barely is as you rest against my chest, and yet I hear it pleading. I look down, knowing it to be answer enough. You sob with the force of the flame of a fading candle.  _ Baby, I had no idea. My baby… _

_ I am a fool for inviting you here. I will never forgive myself for it.  _ Still, though I don't deserve it, I wrap you in my arms as you clutch on your cane, frame like a gale-captured willow tree in my arms.

_ I-it's okay. Th-there are so many moments about tonight I'll n-never forget. And I'll t-tell them years from now, n-no matter what h-happens.  _ You crane your neck towards me.  _ When… whenever I'm d-dealing with b-b-bad things, I like to m-make good m-m-memories.  _ You rarely stutter this much, and your vice grip on my shoulder belies tension that, even when accosted, you hid.  _ Th-th-that way wh-when I look back… it h-hurts less. _

I point at myself.  _ Was that why…  _ I drop my words. They are inadequate in the wake of my feelings.

_ I love you, Mari. A-a-and I want you t-to remember that a-about tonight. O-okay?  _

_ Oh, Olivia…  _ I cannot verbally return my affections through a new spring of tears that I thought I was incapable of crying, but rest assured, I could not love you more.

In the distance, Lissa looks at Forrest, her voice becoming one with the wind.  _ You were right. This is more serious than I ever could have bargained for.  _

Forrest smiles.  _ For what it's worth, I needed that lesson myself. Sometimes learning is filthy and hands-on. Besides, it's over now, Dear Lissa.  _

He turns to us.  _ I'm not sure where you want me to drop you off at.  _

I think. I think of everything that transpired, tonight and everything that was before. Then I think of you and the vague idea of a future with you; the fact that, no matter how immediate it might turn out to be, that I have a future with you at all.

_ Forrest… how much gas do you have in your tank? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. I am not sure what I wanna do yet. But there is a good chance that I just wrap it up in the next two chapters. Though I love this universe, I cannot come to a different conclusion. Don't hold me to anything, but... that might be how I honor the work that has helped me through a lot as it is.


	20. Development (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is hella long and if i keep editing it i will overthink it for the rest of my life
> 
> the speech intercut here is from the night of the rally in between 12 and 13

Lissa clears her throat and looks at the audience, seasick. You and I- as well as Forrest, I’d imagine- are happy to act as her liferafts. 

 _My brother Chrom, who you hopefully know by now, has always told me,_ Lissa, you will always have the floor whenever you want to speak. _And I'd generally have an excuse because, well, being fifteen and socially attentive is harder than it looks. I was out on a hike with friends, or I was gaming with my own community, or I was digging in the dirt setting up a prank with my friends._ I beam, thankful that she didn't gesture to me so I can live in anonymity on that particular subject. _And yes, I still played in the dirt when I was fifteen._ The crowd politely laughs, save for your snicker and Father’s listless silence.

 _I never really took it upon myself to even consider taking the microphone…_ She swallows. A choke in her voice: _Sorry, this is stupid._ How just like Lissa to deny herself emotion. _It was when Emm d- Emmeryn died._ She clears her throat, and my eyes are on her. After Emmeryn died, she broke for a while- understandable, Emmeryn was her sister and at one point chancellor of the nation. Her loss left a hole in the nation and, for once, forced Lissa to let down her guard. 

_And it… wasn't until sh-she was assassinated did I realize the power of words. Not until then did I really factor in that things were life or death. I was a kid. I was fifteen. Politics was just something grownups talked about. I didn't have to care. I never really… appreciated it until that moment where it flew in my face and demanded my attention._

_\---_

I believe that peaceful protest isn't always turning the other cheek. It is not always doing what is considered right by polite society. And though I'd never tell Lissa this, it is not always the only solution. Still, it does have its uses. It can show that even if we lose, to win is not important. It is nothing to celebrate. It is a hollow victory with no spoils to reap. As I sober up with your hand in mine, your tears ebbing and flowing to the squeeze of my hand and the whisperings of sweet nothings, I think of what I am gaining and how it is more than a hollow victory. It says the truth- even though, on some level, my father deserves worse than to be kicked out of a rally, I deserve better. We all deserve better, but I allow myself to believe that I deserve better and that I deserve to show the world.

Forrest's old van pulls up at my driveway. With the vestiges of alcohol in my blood and the dregs of injury in your legs, we must be accompanied by the two sensible, able-bodied ones in this situation. I temper what would be orders into requests as I ask if they can carry my beauty supplies and fancy outfits into the car. I put my hormones in my purse with my antidepressants and sleeping medication. I cannot think of many other personal things that I own, so I decide to leave the rest, knowing that my father is friends with the landlord and that my story with my house that I decorated as my mother had will end here and now. The last thing I do is leave the living room light on, a flare to my soul that I can see through the windows. The clock chimes ten times as I do so.

\---

 _I talked to a few friends to cope. And it was as I did that I became grateful for them and I… started to understand them. One of them was an amazing seamstress and fashion icon who came in from Nohr, another continent away. And another was a fantastic dancer, a black woman from Ferox who just wanted to get better and just has this amazing heart._ You point at yourself in shock and duck down, but the kinetic energy is of both nerves and honor. _And my best friend is this… just amazing woman born here in Themis who… is my role model essentially._ I smile and wave at her, but I am nervous as well, having handed the keys of my person to the woman who knows me best.

_We've spent our time from then to now talking about everything that friends do. But I've noticed just… little things that slip under the radar._

_\---_

I thank both Forrest and Lissa kindly; though both are exhausted, they smile at me. You cling to my arm, your eyes communicating your pride even when mine still reflect passing shame, fading in and out like city lights out of the car window as we pass by, you pressing against me as you sleep, me against the window as I fight to stay awake. 

I gently wake you up as Forrest arrives at your apartment. You come to against me with an adorable catlike yawn. I believe I will enjoy your affection. 

Forrest asks if there's anything else he can do. You think and say that it can wait until morning if I want. I think of my belongings in the back. Aside from ours, they would be in no safer hands. Finally, the solstice fades and the sun finishes its descent. Forrest and Lissa are more distant than before, but the way that they look at each other communicates something there that wasn't there before. He kisses a tender goodnight on your cheek for a brief second, and I thank him for his help with a cordial hug. 

_I just… want to know why._

_\---_

_The man from Nohr is five years my senior.  Forrest is what you'd call a crossdresser. I'd say he's more than that. He's a really radiant designer and a fantastic mentor when I needed to keep my head straight while dealing with my grief. And when he talked about how people threw beer on the clothes he created or was wearing, you could tell he was trying not to let it faze him. Like if he cried about it, all that people would see were the tears, not the beer._

_\---_

Forrest looks down. The answer isn't going to be pretty. _My father… not to your extent, but he was very disapproving of my dress… my definition… who I was. We're better now… I think he realized that he could have turned into your father. And I think about that too… all the time._

I politely kiss his hand. He smiles with an uncharacteristic blush, a stranger to being wooed. _No matter the dosage, no child should experience such rejection from their parents. Thank you for confessing this to me._ My eyes turn curious. _I would like to ask you another thing._ He looks at me expectantly. _And that is… why were you so intent on setting us up?_

_When I met you, I could sense… intense resignation and sadness in your eyes. Yet, Olivia made me privy to how she felt for you, and you spoke of your own love with no need for words. And I'd go to the ends of the Earth to make those I love happy._

I hug and thank him again as sincerely as I can communicate. When we bid the two of them farewell, he faces Lissa with tears in his eyes.

\---

_The people who attacked him, that felt entitled to him and his body, he called Faceless, based on an old folk tale from Nohr about monsters with no face or soul, just bent on destruction. And it was easy for me to think of them as faceless monsters because I'd never faced them myself. I'd never seen how their eyes… well, would actually look at me. I think I fully realized how wrong it was when… I saw the ruined fabric in his garbage, just… embers of a flame, and it shook me, cause… it was real then._

_\---_

We take the elevator upstairs. You make a joke about this old crotchety bastard of an elevator stopping on its own. I am still a red-blooded woman with no regrets, and I give a naughty snicker like a teenager with a dirty magazine. Regardless, you barely open the futon and dress the bed-adjacent thing before you are asleep on my chest, embracing me. My pills take a while to kick in, but I soon follow, both of us asleep in our dresses. I awaken at eleven-forty-eight and enjoy the next twelve minutes waking up in your arms. Over time I expect the thrill to perish in the reawakening of my depression, but for once, I expect it all to be alright.

We are not fully awake until one, and my head is pounding from what I assume to be the dregs of hangover. I am very thankful that I have the pillow, thankful more that you are kind enough to spare your pain medications for me, even as I insist that it’s _just this once_ and _this was because I was a fool and drank away my sorrows_ and _oh, gods, did I embarrass you last night, I am so sorry,_ and you have to reassure me with a twinkle in your eye that you had a great time with me so that I cease my spiral. When I do, I find that the dull pain in my heart, though not vanished, fades with every breath you take into my ear, and within time my headache dies down as well to something that- like my heart- aches in the background but is passable enough to enjoy myself with.

The air changes at around three where we exchange a quick kiss that falls a little deeper in, and in the blink of an eye, we exchange a look of consent. It is not tawdry. It is not scandalous. Hunger and desire are factors, true, but the moment is quite kind and curious, and there's something pure about it- an approach to sex that I never believed existed. 

You know better than I how this side of us is pressured into silence, and yet, you still bring words into the feeling with a blush I do not doubt that I mimic. _If we're gonna… well, d-do it... w-we're gonna do it right._

I nod, breath hastening, signaling to me that we are in the moment. _Perhaps not whilst in our best dress, I will admit._

 _Well, not now, I guess._ Your words are a whisper even as your smile aims to tease.

I heat up. _That was then. This is now._

_Absolutely! And… this is real now. We’re not, like... two cats in heat. We’re…_

The world goes silent for a few moments.

 _We’re lovers, I guess. I-it’s… I want it to m-mean something. A-and with most people I-I’d wait, but…_ A confident mien overtakes your body, flushing me further. _I’ve waited long enough, Mari._

 _As have I._ I take your lips into mine for a moment, so aroused I am by your confidence. In a heated breath by your ear: _I’ve waited far too long._

You shudder. _Wow. Now I'm really excited._

I pull away slightly. _This… as you have likely ascertained from prior comments, is in fact my first time. I hope that it can be worth it, but in the heat of the moment, I fear…_

 _Nonsense._ You cover my body like the deepest blouse as it hugs my waist with the edges. _I w-want you to give… all you have… t-to me._

_And if I falter?_

_I'll guide you back._  

\---

_Then I recognized that… that's how it was with my other friends. It was always the little things with the Feroxi dancer, Olivia. People avoiding her. People acting like she wasn't there. People thinking she was dumber than she was. They weren't even things that I thought had weight behind them. I didn't even know if she did. And then she danced and she was exotic, erotic, enticing… she always called herself a pair of hips because that’s all that people saw._

\---

I am hesitant to take off even the dress, exposing my camisole and tights that surely have framed the bulge of my nethers, but you softly remind me that it's all right. When I do, you tell me that I'm beautiful, and there's something in the way that you say that, Olivia, that makes me fall into your arms. The way you say it is no consolation prize. It does not suggest that you are surprised to not be disappointed, or that I shouldn't find my body to be so bad. It's the dreamy sing-song cadence of someone who expected something amazing and got just that. 

I permit you to take me, but you already have stolen my heart. 

I make way down the scar on your neck as it branches out into a patchy lightning strike through your chest, my kisses soft and kind. I feared that I needed to be aware of what I was doing to avoid the fumbling mistakes I would be sure to overthink, but I am overcome by unconscious worship, having seen and desired everything I saw tangibly. The legs that stretch over gazebo ledges, the hips that sway to electronic music, the arms that embraced me long before I was ready, the lips that are less shocked every time I kiss them, the abs I saw in the videos as you danced… though I don't always know how to _do_ what I'm doing, I know what I'm doing. Even when you are short on breath and they fall between moans, you encourage me, guide me, and sweetly compliment me. The way you say my name is an aphrodisiac like I never knew. 

The way you return the touch informs me that you had seen me the same way, even when I did not, even though now I cannot fathom it. You ask me what works, what feels right, what I like, but I can’t reply because I have spent so long ashamed of my body that I never knew what I wanted, what I needed, so you teach both of us. I shake beneath your touch, tears in my eyes, the fear of vulnerability fading into your touch, your kiss in places I tried all my life not to think about, never truly acknowledged as mine. Perhaps someday, I believe that I deserve it. 

After we finish, you lie in my arms and we kiss again. Soft, sparing, but unlike the world I know, it is not cynical. Unlike the world I know, it does not pressure me to better than I want to be. The kisses invite more, establishing a future. 

\---

_And that’s when I saw how everything just added up and added up and I could feel it all accumulating into a tidal wave. But it never crashed on her in a way she couldn't swim out of._

\---

We then rest more, this time unclothed. Eventually my phone buzzes, and I realize it is on ten percent battery life. I nearly throw my charger into the wall and read from an unfamiliar number that I know is Forrest. 

 _Hello there!_ Emoji of a woman with his hair color, waving. _Lissa gave your number; I hope you don't mind. I’d like to ask if you would mind if we delayed returning your belongings until tomorrow. I’ve secured your things, so don’t let that be your concern. We are just two very tired potatoes and I assume that you are as well? Last night took a lot out of us._

I sigh in relief. Forrest knows me so well, and I am grateful that he gave me an out when I honestly did not want to get up today. _Forrest, I both feel and look like an unpeeled potato. I am keen to wait._

 _Then wait I shall, darling Maribelle. Perhaps we can make a day of it tomorrow._ Emoji of a blond boy reminiscent of a peppy cartoon of the past giving a thumbs up. 

I smile. _Perhaps we can, Forrest. For now, farewell._

We do lazy things that day- eat lazy food, stream lazy videos that require naught but lazy thought, and stare out the window at the imperfect sunset. Somewhere along the way, we dress in our underclothes once more. I do not recall the hour at which we fall asleep, as it happens naturally, with barely any pill assistance.

 ---

You're shaking again next to me, trying not to sob at Lissa’s words. I wish I could take you into my arms and tell you that nothing's gonna hurt you, but with my father nearby, I can only periodically squeeze your hand and gently hush your tears from becoming a sea. I've learned of everything you've redone to reinvent yourself as the Feroxi dance student in Themis, to the point where now you fight your own body to maintain that, and I wish to emulate you.

\---

The next morning, we wake at the break of twilight and look at each other with solemnity, acknowledging the bitter work ahead of us. 

You consider canceling physical therapy that morning. _No._ I nearly slam my coffee down on my own lap. _That should not be an option. You may hate it, and I certainly can understand why, but you cannot deny yourself that. Besides, I will be there for you._

You force a smile and allow me to accompany you, you dressed in workout clothes and me in the simplest thing I can pull from your closet- the first time I've worn a shirt with a music artist on it, if that is who _The King Princess_ is. The jeans chafe my sensitive skin as you wait for your appointment nervously with me. When they call your name, you try to leave me in the lobby, but I convince you to take me with you.

Physical therapy has graduated to you being goaded to walking in lines without a cane. You fall often- on your bum, on your arms, very rarely on your face. You break down crying, so I run to embrace you- though you are stiff at first, I console you, tell you that this too will pass, and you relax to me. I kiss your hair and hear the therapist say that it's nice that you brought your girlfriend in to keep you company. My breath is caught as I wait in fear for you to refute it.

Instead, you smile. _Yeah. Sh-she's a treat._

I could get used to this.

On the bus, you rest against the window- nerves have made you a little distant to casual touch in public. Though I've long stopped caring what people think, I understand, though I dislike it so. You're smiling with a shyness that denotes appreciation. _Even when I thought you were, like, my mom friend, I should have asked you if you could go to PT with me._

I smile in kind, lowering to a whisper. _And since I was more than that, I would have accompanied you._

_I just… I-I feel silly w-when people I love… s-see me so upset, you know? So… down and defeated._

_Nothing you do could embarrass me, my beloved Olivia, and though my heart aches to see you suffer, I look forward to seeing you dance again even more._

Old fear returns in my heart that I may have impressed too much, but instead you lean into me. _Sometimes I swear that you're actually Sappho._ Still, you whisper that you love me and, amazed that my high praise has worked, I return it. 

\---

 _My best friend… she's a character that, I think if I hadn't met when I was three, I'd never be friends with._ I know this; it still hurts to hear because… _Because on the surface, she's blunt, she's angry, she's stubborn, but I've realized she deserves to be._

I point at myself in surprise, caught off guard for the world to see. Do I?

\---

When we return home, you tell me that you will message Forrest about helping move in my things should I make closet space here and in the bathroom. I organize while you sleep on the futon, lost in the peaceful monotony of the tasks and your steady breaths. When you wake up, I've cleared up space and you've called Forrest. 

Forrest comes with Lissa, the two inseparable. They help me carry my things upstairs and to the space I've made for them. The four of us get into the van as Forrest drives us to a burger shack, insisting that he will pay. I do not honestly pay too much attention to him justifying how his finances can assist us. I know that he is just a kind person, though I'll admit that it is strange to be covered. As we eat, Lissa talks our ear off about authentic feelings, how Chrom is doing, how the road ahead looks for them. It's like she never dropped contact with us for weeks at a time. 

We walk outside. When no one is looking, I approach an ATM and start to withdraw. I'd imagine that, soon enough, my father will find a way to take hold of my _allowance_ and I refuse to have that. However, it takes multiple transactions and my presence is missed. I hear you tell the others that you'll check up on me; you're here before I know it. 

I bow as you realize what I'm doing, as it reminds you again that you are taking on my baggage. Still, you guide my head up by the chin to look at me. _This too shall pass. Okay? Th-that's what you said, right?_

_That… that is, Olivia._

_Sometimes... I-I think you need someone to tell you the same things you say to me._

I don't have any words, but there are tears as I go through my transactions to empty my savings account. I hand it to you. _$1,724. It isn't a massive amount, mind, but it is the least I can give._

_Give?_

I shrug. _In a sense._

Then I take your hands into mine, money still within my grip. _Olivia, I know that at this point I am a destitute young woman who can only offer so much, but I wish to start the next phase of my life with you._

As if I'd no need to say a thing, you take the money and set it in your wallet. _I don't think I ever got why they called people partners in the past. I thought it was cause, like, they were scared of the word_ gay. _But now that I'm here… you know, I can kind of see why now. The idea of being your partner seems so right. I don't think I'd want anything more._

I giggle giddily.  The idea of you seeing my inner charms and throwing them back at me is delicious. _My, my, Olivia. Did you practice that?_

You shake your head. _It j-just sort of… h-happened. Like, feeling the moment I guess._

I say your name with religious fervor. I'd always expected moments to require preparation, action, and intention above all. Yet, this happened before I knew it would. Is that why I'm saying your name with honor? Did I hand you a moment to share?

\---

_She goes through so much that hurts her, stuff she says, stuff she doesn't say, and stuff she doesn't have to. To see her on the surface is to misunderstand her and how she has the right to reject the parts of society that never gave her a chance. It's to miss a very loving, very elegant, very detail-oriented and intense person because of the things that hurt her in the first place. She speaks of life like it’s made her worse, but I think they’ve made her more valuable._

I cannot comprehend it. I blink a few times and focus on your energy so I can try. I still feel my father to the right, his aura denying me that attempt at confidence while yours tries to hand it to me. 

\---

_Honestly, Olivia, what took us so long?_

_Beesh sha hewadda me!_ Lissa returns with Forrest, mid-slurp on her milkshake- possibly why Forrest has his hand on his forehead and the other on his hip. _You shuhha sheen huh texsh oer-_

You _eep!,_ I blush, and Forrest groans. _Dear Lissa, I do love you, but I beseech you to please finish your drink first._ Upon his insistence, Lissa goes to swallow. Forrest chuckles and looks at Olivia. _Though, to echo her point, the ones you sent me about Maribelle_ were _the gayest things I've ever seen._

_Stop!_

Forrest claps with a devilish grin. _Like Sappho's own literature, they were._

You let off flustered gibberish, the real-life companion to your keysmashing. _Forrest, I swear to the gods-_

 _Hold._ I dramatically unfold my arms from beneath my shirt. Upon seeing it directly, Lissa _ooh_ s. I transition into raising a finger. _How long has she been sending this to you?_

 _Now_ you're _getting in on it, Maribelle? Oh, my frickin' Gods!_

 _Well, I suppose I_ am _curious. It's been less than forty hours since I knew the extent of your affections. How long were_ you _aware, I wonder?_

You look at both Lissa and Forrest with a pointed glare. _Can we, like stop being in public, maybe?_

Oh. Knowing that feeling of being covered in a million judgmental eyes, I relent with an apology. You relinquish your anger and start to say something reassuring, but you can't get your thoughts out. I give a reassuring smile, but small faux pas _do_ take up a lot of anxiety in my head. 

Forrest drops us off at your place. Lissa leaves the car and hugs us individually like it's the last time she'll see us. She looks at us both as we stand next to each other under a carport. _Look at you! My two darlings in love! I know I might have been brash before, but this?_ She gestures to our held hands. _All worth it. I promise._

Forrest honks. The brass inelegance the horn emits is unlike him. _See you both soon._

_\---_

_The death of my sister changed a lot of things. I never had nightmares like I did when she died. I never cried so much and so often. I never felt such… fear for those that I loved, that they'd run into the wrong face and…_ Lissa's face is so twisted that she can't finish that thought. _It's been four years now, four years of picking up the torch. And so much of that has stayed._

I bow my head and let out a sob. Lissa has changed from the thirteen years I knew her before and the four I knew her after, and though it prompted me to mend fences with her after my feelings created a rift between us, I wish the catalyst had been anything less destructive. You notice me crying at the memories and squeeze my hand back.

\---

After they leave, you and I can be found on the futon. You explain that you have a class that evening and I offer to go with under the guise of perhaps reaching out for my own knowledge of its skills and how I utilize them. I don't tell you that I just don't want to be left alone. I certainly do not tell you that we came together so fast that I do not want to be alone again, but I suppose that being on the same campus is enough. 

Later that afternoon, I get a notification. Coming from you is bizarre- now that I've spent so much time with you, the last thing I sent you was _So sorry. Was having a moment. Coming to get you. Love you_ approximately two nights ago.

You sent me a series of screenshots. It's of a message chain you exchanged to Lissa. 

_lissa. help._

_im_

_what if_

_i was in love with my best friend_

_(and we were both girls)_

On Lissa's side: _Mars?_

_Are you pulling my leg? ;)_

From you: _NO_

_NO IM NOT_

From Lissa: _Oh you used a meme so I thought you were lighthearted._

You: _ok fair. I. do that when im scared. &im V scared _

Your proclamation: _like you get it right? this is serious love. like the crush already happened/im in FUCKING LOVE. shes kind like yeah shes hard but ive never met some1 sweeter. and talking to her is like. she dances w/words like i dance w/music. and she dances for me. aaaaaaaaand… like… soleil says shes hot bc thats the 1 word she knows and im like WOW. for once ur underselling the beauty of another woman. hhhhhhhhh. shes a punk rock goddess whose actions scream FUCK THE WORLD._

  1. _i. i. never meant for this lissa. im scared at how much i love mari. i didnt know i could feel like this._ Next to it, a fresh sketch of a heart.



From Lissa: _Wow. That's real._ A sticker of the letter F. 

From you: _rgw2rqfwgwgwhe LISSA_

_\---_

_But I learned something more important than anything. Something vital, something useful, and something I needed. I learned it on the day that my brother said that I could still speak if I needed to. He's a protective older brother, and here he was handing me the microphone that I could still see her blood on._

A pause. _Metaphorically, I mean!_ Some people laugh politely, but I am in no shape to.

_And I realized not just with Emmeryn but with my friends, the power that words have._

_\---_

An arrow points to a date in time on the side. The date is about a month and a half ago. 

I look at you, hands covering your fuschia-flushed face. I decide to text back rather than speak, as I'm compounded past simple language and struggle to think of a coherent string of words. 

_That long ago? I will admit that I've seriously pined for you for about two months now, though I never told anyone and thus have no evidence. I'd been attracted to you for about four months prior. Things blossomed from there into admiration, infatuation, and eventually, love. A long and winding journey, but I don't regret a second._

I send it to you. Eventually, you look down and smile. Aloud: _I love you, Mari._

_\---_

_It was easy to think about the deaths they cause, but I remember the way my friends talked about those that hurt them with casualty, with metaphor, with resignation. Like the words were too powerful to be said otherwise. Too powerful for anyone to hear. They have the power to tell us about lives we never will lead. And I'm so privileged that I'll never have to face a moment where the microphone to speak and have others hear me was not something that waited for me until this very moment._

_\---_

_I really don't want to go._

I sigh, resting my head against your shoulder. _Yet you must, Olivia._

_It's like, it's literally just math. What am I gonna do with math?_

I can't answer, so I shake my head before putting it in my hands. I can't tell you why I feel so strongly about you continuing your education, when I feel that I would also very much want you to stay here, would love to feel your breath rise and fall in your chest, though I love the feel of your tears on my forehead considerably less, as they bring me to reality in a dazed vigilance.

_Olivia?_

You sigh in a way that sounds like you pulling your inner demons back inside of you. I will not stand for that. _Olivia, if something is wrong, you can trust me to be there for you._

 _I'm just sp-spinning my wheels._ You surrender to the errant sob. _I-I hate it. A-and, yeah, like… you know, cause I mention it a-all the time, b-but…_

_I can't grasp the fullness of the feeling just as an observer, can I?_

You nod and apologize through your tears, but I have none of it and gently shush you. You tell me _I-I just w-wanna… k-keep the apartment, a-and the sc-scholarship, s-so… I gotta. But i-it's so p-p-pointless. And I j-just… s-so m-much, t-t-time, going n-nowhere…_

_If I may, darling._

You swallow. _Y-yeah, definitely._

 _Olivia._ I command your attention. _I can only speak as said observer, but I've seen you grow incredibly as a person through this adversity. You fight for what you want, whether the work is bitter or not._ Placing my finger at your lips as your sobs die out: _When I first fell for you, it was me seeing the same person a different way. It was love when I realized that you were not where you started in my sight, and I could only follow along. You are_ not _spinning your wheels, I can promise you that._

_You really think so?_

When my instincts tell me to scale my words back, I make a point of denying them. _I believe that with a religious fervor._

 _Oh, Mari…_ You clutch me to your chest and cry a little more, chin in my hair. There are words you don't say that I can feel, and they are all positive words. I trace circles into the hands that hold me to you and, without a word, prepare to watch the time of your math class go by, not with a chime, but by the stealth of silence into the evening hours, leaving behind the message that _we all have our days._ You will have them, and regrettably so will I, but over time perhaps we can believe that struggling is normal.

\---

_Right now, I am feeling the power of telling my story to you. About my sister. My friends. And what I've learned. And I'm thinking of what I learned about other people who trusted me to hear them. I'm thinking of all I don't know and how everything I could say only covers a fraction of the Ylisse we all know and love. A Ylisse that belongs not just to me, or Chrom, or any of you, but the Forrests, the Olivias, the Maribelles. Voices that also deserve to be heard- not just in innuendos and folk tales, but in full uncensored glory._

_\---_

Tomorrow, you decide to attend class, and I join you at the campus, very proud of your decision to attend, but feeling a sense of dread that I cannot quantify. As you walk into your classroom, the presence of your hand slowly becoming intangible, I stand in the main hall and quiet my thoughts. _No, she's not going to disappear. No, time will not be undone. Yes, this is all real. Yes, it will continue to be_ . I'm not sure how much I believe, but at the very least, you'll _have_ to see me again to get your spaghetti-strap Studio Killers tank top back- a garment that makes me feel punk rock indeed- and the piece of you makes me feel like I am even a tenth in your company. 

I go to a few administrative offices and learn the hows of _Ylissean Arts University._ It is quite humble, but its literature courses sound very nice, and I always did love a good book or two. I resolve to keep it on my mind, but I suppose I will have to get to a point where this newfound anxiety does not dominate me. I have done so much alone, and for the gods’ sake, I do not understand why it feels so difficult to now. 

I get a notification in the hallway. It's from Forrest. _I have some bad news, though bad news you seem to have accepted._ A photograph confirms my suspicions- the living room light is no longer visible through the windows of the house I once called mine.

 _It was bound to happen._  

I can't close my eyes or slow my breathing. 

_So why is it that I am shaking so much?_

_No matter the dosage, there is still a lot of pain from familial wounds._

I groan to myself, tears scraping my face. He quoted me back to me, and he's right because I'm right. This will never be okay. Never in my life will this ever be okay. Even the path being set to lead me to you does not make this appropriate. Experiencing nearly a decade of abuse at his hands is something I will never, ever justify.

\---

_I am still figuring out what to do with the power of a platform that I've had all this time, but I know I can't speak alone. And I know there's so much I need to hear. All I can advise you is this- we all need to listen and understand more. And even if it hurts to hear, the words that aren't clean, that are uncensored, that are hard to swallow- those may be the most important of all._

\---

Before I can spiral, however, my fears are immediately assuaged as you enter the lobby a bit earlier than I expected. You see my tears and ask what happened. I take your shoulder, shaking my head. I've not escaped the reach of my father in the mind that cannot forget him. I will pass that block when I get there: for now, may the gods permit me rest.

You look me over. You see the tears that I regret that I've shed as I hold onto my phone. You take my hand with both gentleness and firmness. I meet your eyes with a bit of challenge in mine, but I am not going to sabotage this. Would I characterize this as a change? Not necessarily a change of being- when you notice me starting to come loose at the seams, you bring me back together with what seems like a magic spell. What's changed is the intent. What felt like you leaving some pixie dust on me and flying off before now feels like making sure we go home together with smiles on our faces. Less pizzazz, yet more confidence, because I trust you as much as I can trust a person, and you know it.

 _S-so, there's a cafe in the campus that is nearby enough that I don’t mind walking to. Their tea… probably isn't your type of thing, but…_ You take my hand and smile invitingly. _Why don't we go there and we can talk?_

_About?_

You close your eyes for a moment. Any frustration I fear is gone when they open.

_I feel like… there are things on your mind right now. Right?_

I don't answer at first. I could say it's nothing to worry about and we can go home happy while we save my problems for a rainy day. Still, if we do that, I will do it again until we never reach a point where we are anywhere except where we are and, oh, darling Olivia, how much do I wish I were anywhere else.

_I would take you up on your offer._

You smile and embrace me, your touch soft and reassuring. _We're partners,_ you say, your words the roots for a thousand iterations, said until I fully believe it.

I cannot say I fully do yet. These things take so long, and the extent of my damage, even I do not know. All I know is that it starts with paranoia, neediness, and separation anxiety, and I fear that it will all prove too much for anyone. Yet, at this moment, I can start the belief that it will not break you. I can start the belief that you are and will be my partner.

_Partners. Yes. We are partners._

\---

Lissa looks at the audience she's captivated to silence like the storyteller deep inside her. _Th-thank you all. Chrom, can you…? I don't think I have anything more to say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one little chapter after this. a bonus if you will.


	21. Denouement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earn your happy ending.

I don't make much of a fuss in the lobby of your hospital ward. Part of it is not wanting to introduce myself via any indignation I shout at the red-haired rube who is much too kind to and complimentary of me to be authentic, but part of it is a muted sort of curiosity. Lissa told me about you, o mystery stranger, how I should visit you now that it's been a month after your accident. She talks about how compatible we would be, and though I don't buy her insistence that her intents are that we would be  _ just friends,  _ that is probably the best I can hope for. She acts like a matchmaker whenever it is brought up, possibly out of pity for me, but this seems like a match made in carelessness.

After all, you've not met me. 

I walk through the hallways and lose myself in thought. I pity you; Lissa is a dear and a treasured friend of us both, but she has just set to introduce you to an anxiety-ridden constantly angry trans woman, loner by lesson, combative by nature, hyperfeminine in protest. Though I'm also to meet someone who is shy, nervous, and self-conscious almost to an inhuman level, but while that should annoy me, I will try my best. 

After all, what is it that Lissa told me?  _ There’s something about Liv, where she’s so nice to people she loves because she’s so mean to herself. And so she never wants to let anyone just hear mean things about themselves.  _

I suppose, though I'd never admit it, we have that in common.

I realize that I have passed your room and swear uncharacteristically under my breath. My anxiety is fiercer than usual, but I thought it best not to reschedule a third time. Slinging my purse over my shoulder and making sure I have perfect posture, I walk to your door and rap on the wooden frame. 

_ C-come on in!  _

I walk in to meet you for the first time. Lissa has shared photos of you from before this tragedy happened involving you being hit by a car, and they're not too far removed from the state you are in now- though your pink hair is a mess that needs a trim and your taupe skin is dusty as though you've not bathed for a week. Your eyes meet me with nervousness as if you've followed me. On instinct, I say  _ Quite all right, dear, I don't bite!  _

_ R-right. Sorry.  _

I sit on a daybed that mirrors your hospital bed so we may look at each other. The amount of IVs make me nervous, and I shudder to think of the state of your legs at the moment- if the wildfire of a scar on your neck is any indication, they must be beyond worse for wear. I avert my gaze from your visible wounds and meet your gaze, though you quickly avert it. I try and find your eyes again, but when I do, they dart away still.

_ Olivia, is it? _

You nod.

_ I assume that you've been told about me, correct?  _

You nod again.

_ Splendid. I am Maribelle, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, though if you could meet my gaze, I would appreciate it. I'm not a terror, darling, so try not to look like you've seen a ghost.  _

You  _ oop  _ and meet my eyes with alarm and curiosity at once. I sigh at myself, impressed that I am already set to burn this friendship before it starts with my acidity. Maybe I am a terror, but no matter what I am, I can't take back this being the way we've met, so I force an uneasy smile.

_ I like your purse!  _ You compliment in a panic.

Surprised, I look at it. It's not my best purse- more a messenger bag with a loose strap- but I say  _ Thank you, I'd just come from work and since I must transport documents to and fro, I rely on this during my work hours. _

_ I-it still looks really cool. _

I beam. I'm used to getting compliments on my fashion choices by well-meaning people who want to validate my transness, but the tension in your eyes lets me know that such a compliment was the first thing you could think of. I think you are invested in making me like you, fresh as a presence as I may be.

So I smile and reach into my bag.

_ I brought some playing cards. I don't suppose you know any games? _

You shake your head in shame, though it's not that much of a concern.  _ C-can you t-teach me? _

I nod with a smile.  _ Only if you are willing to learn more than you bargained for. _

_ \----- _

Petrichor is more potent than the scent trailing from the coffee cup in your hand as you complain that this summer has been the rainiest you've ever seen. I tell you that Themis has always been a wet town.  _ Mari. There is sleet in May back in Longford. Compared to that, this is bikini weather. I just always dreamed of Ylisse being, like, actual bikini weather. _

I close your umbrella. The rain gathered collapses on the sidewalk as we walk, obscuring our vision.  _ Don't spill it on us!   _ You jump back slightly before realizing that it's just rain. I smile. Your jumpiness is something you've noted as an overreaction, but I'm quick to apologize for the alarm. As I've found, there is such a thing as picking and choosing your battles, and this is a problem that is solved by the surface of my free hand at your back. You find your balance and thank me. 

I smile in kind. Then, a return to the conversation.  _ If it was seaside life you wanted, again, I'm surprised you didn't pick a college in Eastern Ylisse.  _

You think.  _ I think that they just seemed snooty whenever they visited Longford. And that was in my turf. I can't imagine being in theirs.  _

_ So instead, you took refuge in Themis and lay claim to the snootiest woman in all of the nation. _

You snort.  _ After Lissa's Big 21, I can never think of you as too good for  _ anything. 

I sigh as we finally pass the last of the college buildings. I truly am a lightweight.  _ Drat. It  _ was  _ a lovely defense mechanism while it lasted.  _

You push me lightly, stumbling a bit as you do so.  _ I like unbound Maribelle.  _

_ Even when unbound Maribelle would not let go of your arm and shouted at anyone who tried to hit on you? _

Especially _ then. Those types of dudes never listen until you get your parasol out and force them away. _

_ Oh Gods, I really did force, didn't I? _

_ Lissa was afraid you were gonna scare her guests away. I told her she shouldn't freakin' invite her entire poli-sci class to her birthday party.  _

_ I  _ did  _ love that.  _ I tweak your nose with impish playfulness.  _ Olivia the bold. Never to be silenced.  _

_ Bold, unbound… it all feels right. _

I'm reminded of what Lissa told me- my innate possessiveness and adoration may not entice everyone, but it was made for you.  _ I'm happy for her. _

You blink a few times.  _ Me too. It's… tough that she had to follow Chrom back to the capital, but I'm just…  _

I nod.  _ I'm many things too. Yet, I'm happy for her.  _ I finally heave a morbid sigh.  _ Though Ylisstol is not too far away, it feels like a different world. I truly do hate that she keeps messaging my old number. Especially with my full acknowledgment of my separation anxieties, Lissa may as well…  _

I stop the train of thought as you meet my eyes and show alarm at the start of my spiral.  _ Once we can reliably allocate the funds, we must get a car.  _ With an upturned chin:  _ I  _ am  _ making decent enough pay at Oboro's. It's base work, but it's nothing I feel shame at humbling myself to.  _

You giggle.  _ That's good to hear! From what I knew about Oboro, she's very accommodating. I wouldn't want to model for anyone else.  _ Your pause is pregnant.  _ I mean, I wouldn't want to model for anyone at all, but if you gotta do it, best to do so for Oboro.  _

I nod. There's a certain heft to it, and it always plays in the form of her words about how she handles her own PTSD triggers in the workplace. Admitting my struggles with my father- doing Gods-know-what except terrorizing me with his existence- was tough enough to do with you, much less someone I'd not known, so I change the subject.  _ If anything, I'm grateful that she's working closely with Forrest. I'm surprised she ever let  _ that _ resource go by. The two are an empire in the making.  _

_ Exactly!  _ You visibly think, finger on your chin as a symbol I heed.  _ I could have sworn he and Lissa were together, though, not…  _

I giggle.  _ Did you honestly?  _

You blush.  _ I mean… I hoped, kinda. I don't know. It's weird as hell. _

_ If there's one thing I've learned, it's how little I know about the love lives of others.  _

_ Yeah. They're not simple like us.  _

I take your hand with a smile.  _ Not like us, indeed.  _

As we walk, you gesture to the right, further into a garden and away from your apartment, which I soon realized was a dorm after I unofficially moved in and asked about rent.  _ Why are we going this way?  _

_ I just… wanna rest a little. My legs hurt. _

With no hesitation:  _ Then rest we shall.  _ I watch your uneven steps with happiness. Your cane is at home, packed away in the closet you are allotted.  _ I'm so proud of you. _

_ I'm just walking, Maribelle.  _ Still, you don't sound resistant to my pride as much as surprised. 

_ You are not  _ just  _ walking, Olivia. You are  _ walking.  _ I could never downplay how amazing that is when I consider what state I met you in.  _

_ Gosh…  _ You lean over and kiss my cheek, hand using my shoulder as support.  _ You're amazing, honey.  _

I hold onto the hand on my shoulder as it drifts off, yet I accept you letting go.  _ As are you, my darling Olivia. And I can't ever see myself tiring of reminding you, no matter what else changes. _

You sniffle and meet my gaze with a watery smile.  _ I'm so happy we're partners.  _ I, Olivia, am so happy that you remind me so often, so freely, so instinctively. It feels more tangible by the moment. Before I can respond, you point to a bench we can sit on.  _ There's a good one!  _

I nod. The rain seems to be approaching, so I point the umbrella away from you and open it. You've sat in a graceless slump, tired of the idea of being presentable. I sit next to you, and you rest against me with gratitude. Our faces are close enough that we kiss softly a few times, but we've long released our pent-up sexual tension and are more reasonable about affection- the errant elevator aside. Now, we can be as we are, the masks slowly being cast aside, letting them go a finger at a time.

_ I'm so happy we're partners too. _

You sigh, lost in a dream, and as you lie against me, I feel the dream sinking into my skin and making me feel safer than I have in ages. The sun sets before us, shrouded by fluorescence and smog, but I've long accepted it. I've had to accept a lot in the past few months, but with you in my arms, warm coffee cup casting steam into my view, rain bouncing off of the umbrella I hold as I hear your steady breath, feel it rise and fall against my chest as I'm reminded that I'm not alone, my partner is here, closer than the arms' breadth I once thought a fantasy too good for me… 

Well, my darling Olivia, that makes all of the sacrifice worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very grateful that I got to basically do a month-long in-my-feelings self-indulgement that accidentally oops! all novels! and none of you laughed me out of the building. I enjoyed writing this and I enjoyed not overthinking it more than that. I hope you enjoyed this too! 
> 
> -maeve


End file.
